Combustion
by clamoring-minds
Summary: "There's the sky above her and the Earth below. But within her heart, there's fire."
1. Hello, I Love You

**If you're new here, this is sort of AU, with various topics/elements from Supernatural, American Horror Story, Harry Potter, the Hex Hall series, Hemlock Grove, and my imagination! It isn't a crossover, it just has little pieces of many things melded together. It's rated T for of swearing and (eventual) sexy bits that aren't too descriptive.**

 **Quick extra A/N: REWRITTEN!**

 **Enjoy!**

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 _"Do you think you'll be the guy to make the queen of the angels sigh?"_

 _ **September 26, 2008**_

The hunt is a relatively straightforward one. Just your regular run-of-the-mill vampire nests. The creatures who decided to hole themselves up in Albany had been methodically killing a child every month for the last year. They would slowly sip on the blood each time they felt hungry, savoring it until the first of the following month when they would decide to take a new victim. But one of them became arrogant and decided to go on a rampage in the next town over, sucking four kids dry in one night. Which the vamps should know is not a good idea if the nest didn't want Dean Winchester and his little brother to get involved.

The Impala rumbles to a stop at the bottom of the gravel driveway that leads to the vamps' hideout. Dean leans his head out the window and gazes at the red brick building.

"Damn it," he says shortly.

With a heavy sigh, he climbs out of the car and goes to stand next to Sam. The brothers both shield their eyes from the blinding sun and take in their target. It looks old and decrepit, the bricks taking on a dingy sheen of brown and green as damp moss spreads across them.

"Gotta give the vamps credit," Dean starts. "It's not exactly a well-populated area."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "You ready?"

"Let's do this."

Sam walks around to the back of the Impala and pops the trunk, lifting the cover and revealing the Winchester arsenal. He takes out two machetes and hands one to Dean, who finds the jar of dead man's blood. Each brother dips a blade in the jar, covering the entire thing with certified vampire cyanide. For extra protection, they take a syringe each of the leftover dead man's blood. Purposefully, the brothers march up the driveway, and Dean pushes the gate open, frowning when it squeaks on rusty hinges. They make it to the back door, and Dean pushes it open.

"On three?" he mutters to Sam.

Sam nods. "One."

"Two."

"Three!"

On that three, Dean rushes inside with Sam just a step behind him. Dean assesses the room with the well-practiced eye of a hunter. It's large, with no apparent trace of the vamps anywhere. The room looks like it had used to be an old office space, but the walls of the cubicles had broken apart so badly that the whole place is now just a vast open space of cracked, plastic dividers.

"Where the hell is everything?" Sam asks quietly.

"Dunno," Dean answers. "But keep an eye out."

Without so much as a word to one another, the brothers separate. Sam goes left, and Dean, with his flashlight in hand, goes the other direction. He shines the light every which way, but there is no trace of the vampires. No pale, unconscious bodies, no plastic bags filled with blood, not even dried streaks of day old blood on the cement floor. Dean is almost scratching his head in confusion. So distracted is he that he almost misses as his flashlight finally finds something. On the ground lies a headless body. Someone (or something) had ripped the shirt open and carved what looks to be a flower on the dead vamp's chest.

"What the hell?" Dean mutters aloud.

Rapid footsteps approach Dean, and he freezes, machete at the ready.

"Dean, it's me."

"Sam," Dean says, relieved. "Did you see? What the fuck is it? Demons?"

"Witches," Sam corrects.

"What?!"

"Yeah," Sam says. "There's another body about fifteen feet from here. Same symbol and everything."

"But witches?" Dean grunts, annoyed.

"It's a symbol of folk magic, I think."

"Great," Dean mutters. "Just fuckin' great. I hate witches. I fuckin' hate 'em, Sam."

"Dean," Sam says. "You hear that?"

"Yeah."

The brothers start to move silently towards the noise. It sounds like screeching to Dean. Like a record player has shorted out or something. The noise stops as the suggestive sound of a squelching blade tells him that the vamp just lost its head. After about ten seconds, Sam's flashlight catches the scene, and it's the same as the last two; a dead vamp with a flower carved into its chest.

"Whoever this witch is, she sure knows what she's doing," Sam comments.

"Exactly," Dean says, strangely awed. "That's three she's taken out."

"She's fast too."

"C'mon, Sammy. Three down-"

"Three to go," Sam finishes.

The Winchesters continue their careful walk. It's hard to see in the pitch black building, and Dean is so not in the mood to be overpowered by a vampire today. He suddenly jolts back into Sam's chest in surprise.

"Dude, what?"

"Look!"

Sam follows his brother's light, and they both gaze at the strange sight before them. Two vamps are surrounding a small woman who has a machete gripped tight in her hand. From what Dean can hear, she's singing "Another One Bites the Dust" (ironically, it seems) as she dances around the creatures wearing these wicked stilettos covered in little spikes and studs. Dean catches notice of a blur, and a third vampire shoots out and joins the fray. The girl hasn't seen it yet, and the monster takes a flying leap onto her back. Her lovely singing voice abruptly ends, and she swears, loudly and often, as she wiggles around trying to throw it off.

"Cazzo, damn, merda, you asshole! Get the fuck off of me, cunt-face! Vaffanculo!"

Without thinking, Sam flips on a switch near the wall and the room is filled with a bright, white light that makes all three of the vamps hiss in pain. The one on the woman's back is flung violently to the floor, and in one quick move, she slices off the head. The other two vamps are advancing towards Dean and Sam, trying to look menacing and cover their eyes from the glowing light at the same time. The brothers are quickly on top of them (the light is terribly distracting to the monsters) and at the same time, behead the creatures. Dean lets out a breath he didn't know that he was holding and wipes a bit of blood from his face. He turns around to look at the witch and is drawn in at how weirdly attractive she looks. It's pretty hard to look hot when one is covered in blood and guts, but she pulls it off well. The witch crouches down to the ground and pulls out a knife, carving something into the vamp's chest. She's wearing a leather jacket and a white tank top that bears the logo of some brand of vodka. The shirt collar hangs low, and when she bends down, Dean's blood jolts as he gets a peek at the nicest pair of tits ever. He has to shake his head to snap himself out of it. She's a witch. And Dean kills witches.

"Thanks for that," said witch remarks, standing up again.

Dean pulls the gun from his pocket on her, curling his lip.

"Jesus, what the fuck, dude?"

Dean almost drops his gun to the floor at the sound of her voice. It's sexy as hell, with some accent that Dean can't place.

"Why did you carve those symbols into the vampires' chests?" Sam asks quickly.

Dean snaps out of his second desire filled reverie and nods at the woman, waving his gun at her warningly.

"Those were not just vamps," she says, as though the brothers are incredibly naive.

"What were they then?"

The witch wipes a strand of hair from her face, leaving a streak of goopy blood across her cheek. Dean's blood heats up when he catches notice of her sharp green eyes.

"They were Upyr," she explains.

"Upyr?" repeats Sam. "In New York?"

"I guess so," the woman says, walking closer. "They're running out of food overseas. They're getting desperate."

"What are Upyr?" Dean asks, the curiosity getting the better of him.

The witch trains those intelligent eyes on Dean.

"They're vampire-demon type things from Russia. All the vics were kids under the age of fifteen, and after they had drained the bodies, they ate the hearts. That's how you know. I think they're starving over there. As I said, they're getting desperate. Any creature, when they're hungry enough will gladly leave their homeland looking for prime rib. Plus, you Americans have a diet filled with red meat. The kids have more fat around their hearts here. Upyr love fat. They'll go anywhere for a fatty heart, even across the ocean."

"And how do you know this?"

"Because I'm formerly from Europe. Italy. I grew up around European monsters. Which is helpful over here when North American hunters don't know what they're dealing with," she says, all Hermione Granger, know-it-all.

"Why did you carve that symbol on the vamps' chests?" Sam asks again.

"It's a Witch's Knot," she explains. "Mortals use it to prevent witchcraft, but we use it as protection. Upyr are bad motherfuckers, and you do not want others to come sniffing around for their family."

"So then you're a witch?" Sam wonders.

"Do I need to kill you?" Dean adds. "I fuckin' hate witches."

No matter how hot they look covered in blood and guts and no matter how sexy their accents are, Dean despises witches with a passion.

"Natural born," the woman snaps darkly. "Born and bred."

"Is that supposed to mean somethin' to me?" says Dean.

She snorts. "I wouldn't expect it to mean anything to you. Hunters are very misinformed when it comes to us. They only see us as monsters."

"You are!" growls Dean. "You guys are always spewin' your bodily fluids everywhere, making everythin' all gross and unsanitary. Not to mention that witches are terrible and bloodthirsty murderers, killing in cold fuckin' blood!"

"Do you want to test that theory, pretty boy?"

"Don't test me, sweetheart. I'll kill you before you can mix a potion or whatever you bitches do," Dean threatens, gesturing to his gun.

"Oh, Christ. We don't mix potions. They major in potion blending, not me," she snaps.

"Hold on," Dean pauses. "What are you babblin' about?"

"The witches you hunters are used to fighting?" the woman starts, "They got their powers by selling their souls to those ass-hats in Hell. I, on the other hand, was born one. A damn good one and hell of a lot better than those other moronic 'witches.' I don't mix potions, or use hex bags. I use blood magic and can translate ancient runes and Archaic Latin faster than you can ask "what the hell's that mean?" Potions? Hell no. You know Vodou right? That's what I can do. And Vodou spirits are deadly fast and quicker than any old lame-ass, sell-your-soul-to-a-demon witches."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Dean says, sneering.

"I don't know. How would you feel having Congo Savanne come and eat you for breakfast?"

Dean makes a face. "What?"

"Vodou loa," the woman elaborates, grinning mockingly. "He grinds you up like corn and then eats you."

"You're just a bullet away," Dean warns.

"Or maybe I should get Marinette-Bwa-Chech," she continues, ignoring Dean's threat. "They call her the sworn servant of evil. A she-devil. I'd think she'd like you."

"Oh, that's it, witch bitch..."

"Okay, hold on!" Sam says abruptly, trying to diffuse the tension and Dean scowls at him, "You were born a witch?"

"Mhmm. My great-grandma was one. It can skip a few generations, especially if the witch marries a mortal."

"That's pretty amazing."

"Amazin'?" Dean repeats. "Are you serious, Sam?"

His sworn supernatural enemy is right in front of him, and his brother is trying to make friends with it. Dean doesn't know whether to be pissed, confused, or betrayed. He settles on all three and glares menacingly at Sam. Sam, used to his brother's glares, ignores him and turns to the woman.

"Well, she did kill four Upyr in one fight. That's pretty hard to do. Besides, we both know that not every supernatural being is homicidal."

"Thank you," the witch says, grinning up at him.

Sam smiles back, and when he turns away from her, she gives Dean the middle finger in triumph. Dean clenches his jaw in irritation. Apparently, he couldn't shoot her now. Not with Sam 'liking' her all of a sudden.

"I have some sandwiches in my car," the woman pipes up. "You guys want any? There's pie too, I think."

"I do," replies Sam. "Dean?"

"Fuck no!"

Dean gets an excellent 'Bitch Face' from Sam.

"Would you excuse us?" Sam says. "We need to have a word."

"Okay."

Sam grabs Dean forcefully by the arm and steers him away from the witch. Dean scowls again as soon as Sam lets him go.

"She's a witch, Sam!"

"But does that give you a right to be an asshole, Dean?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it does," Dean answers, trying not to say 'duh' and smack Sam on the forehead- like he used to when they were kids.

"No, it doesn't. Remember Madison?"

"You had to kill her!"

"Only because..." Sam sighs, frowning, "Fine. Bad example. Remember Lenore?"

Dean regards this for a second. He grumbles when he can't find an argument against it.

"Kill first, ask questions later," Dean finally says.

"Fine. Starve. I'm going," Sam says, shrugging.

"But what if she kills you?"

"Then I guess you'll have to come with us, Dean. Keep me safe."

He grins, knowing he's got Dean by the short and curlies now. Dean scoffs a little and nods in bemused agreement.

"Touché, Sammy. Touché."

They walk back over to the witch, and she stands up from the Upyr. Dean sees that the two he and Sam had killed now have Witch's Knots carved into their pale skin.

"What did you decide?" she asks.

"We'll join you," Sam says. "By the way, I'm Sam. That's Dean."

"The infamous Winchesters," the woman muses. "I'm Bella. Bella Rossi. You guys ready for the best sandwiches ever?"

Sam agrees, and Dean watches as he walks ahead of him with Bella. The witch. Dean grumbles again and follows the two out of the warehouse. But only to protect Sammy. Not because he thinks the witch is hot.

It's nothing like that.

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 **The song is "Hello, I Love You" by The Doors :)**

 **And just a quick remark- all the chapters are rewritten and they will be posted within 1-2 weeks of each other.**


	2. Cherry Pie

**REWRITTEN :) More is added because Dean thinks Bella is really smoking? And fighting is like their foreplay?**

 **Thanks for reading!**

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 _"Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry."_

The little party heads out of the building and out into the mid-afternoon sunshine. Each one is still holding a bloody machete and trying for all intents and purposes to look as though they had not just participated in a murder spree. Walking behind Bella, Dean has a great view of her figure. He has an urge to grab her perky ass through her tight jeans and squeeze it until she moans for him.

Wait, what? Hold on.

He shakes himself from the daydream and focuses on the thought that Bella could murder him as soon as his attention is elsewhere. That's probably her witchy M.O anyway- seducing hunters with her swaying hips to get them distracted before she kills them in the worst ways possible.

"And here we are," Bella says, stopping and popping the trunk on a car, "My love."

In spite of himself, Dean whistles at it impressed. It's a stunning car and apparently quite liked by its owner too. The red paint is pristine (no chips or dings), and the rims are almost as beautiful as Dean's Baby's.

"Damn."

"Aw thanks, Winchester," Bella says. "It's a 1968 Chevy Malibu. I find that it hides bloodstains pretty well. On the outside, at least."

Dean chuckles a little, a noise that Sam doesn't miss. He gives his older brother a knowing look, and that wipes the grin right off Dean's face.

"Can't you just fly on your broomstick?" he says sardonically.

Bella's beautiful face immediately drops down into a scowl.

"That's just a stupid myth."

"But you do ride brooms, right?" Dean asks, goading her.

He likes the way she glares at him, all dangerous and sexy.

Wait, what? Dude, she's a witch.

Dean calms himself down for the third time in the last twenty minutes.

"Sometimes," says Bella. "But it's not our choice transportation."

She launches a sandwich at Dean, surely with the intent on hitting him with it. But using his hunter's reflexes, he manages to catch it smoothly in one hand.

"So what is your choice transportation?" he says.

"Cars are easiest if you want to blend in. But if you practice enough, there's also Conveyance," Bella answers, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a huge bite.

"And that's what exactly?"

"It's teleportation," Sam answers.

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffs. "There's no fuckin' way in hell."

Bella raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as a challenge. Dean blinks, and suddenly, she's standing directly in front of him, causing him almost to drop his sandwich in surprise.

"Believe me now?" she says, all attractive snark.

"Do it again," Dean commands. "Over by that gate."

Bella cocks her head, and as soon as Dean blinks again, she's waving her black tipped fingernails at him from the gate. Somehow, she got so that she's sitting on top of the thing, straddling the metal as though she's riding a horse or something else that is long and hard (Wait, what?). Which is not a good image for Dean, who is trying his very best right now to not stare at the strip of skin in between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her jeans. And then get a hard on for a witch as he imagines sucking a hickey into the skin at the base of her spine. (Wait, what? Jesus, what the fuck is the matter with him?)

"Now come back!" he shouts.

She jumps gracefully down from the gate and within a second, is back with the brothers, leaning on her car. She takes a huge bite out of her sandwich, making noises of pleasure at how good it is. Dean (regrettably) has to agree. The meat inside is like fancy bologna, and the bread is awesome.

"Can I ask you another question?" Dean asks Bella.

"Seems like you just did, Winchester."

"An entirely different one?"

"That was a different one. In fact, that was two separate ones," Bella answers.

"YOU ARE SO FUCKIN'... okay, this doesn't count, a whole new question?" Dean says.

"Yeah."

Dean growls a little at her. "What's that amulet on your necklace?"

"It's a charm actually," Bella considers, looking at the symbol. "Keeps away the Nargles, you know."

"Nargles?" Sam asks, bewildered.

Dean, who got the Harry Potter reference as soon as she said it, glowers at her.

"If you don't want to answer, that's fine. You don't have to be a fuckin' witch about it."

Bella smiles widely, and Dean decides it's an attractive smile, (for a witch, anyway) one with bright white teeth. (And don't even get him started on her lips). Wait, what?

"I was just kidding, calm down. It's called Hecate's Wheel. As I'm sure you guys know, she was the guardian of the crossroads before becoming the Goddess of magic and sorcery. She was also, they say, a bit of a feminist. The symbol represents knowledge and life. It's the two most important things for a natural born witch to remember. It's how my coven and I keep track of each other. Do a simple tracking spell on it and find anyone you need to."

Dean's jaw drops. "There's more of you?"

"More of us? My coven's only nine. Hecate's number is three, so we're more powerful if we're in factors of three. Members of my coven are scattered all across the world and usually meet on three of the main Pagan sabbats, plus the Day of Hecate at the Crossroads. Also, there's another coven, with numbers even smaller than ours," Bella says.

She stops, looking at her feet a little sadly.

"You okay?" Sam asks.

"Fuck, no, not really. There used to be so many of us natural born witches, back in Salem, you know, during the Witch Trials. All the ones you stupid mortals killed weren't genuine at all. We're too good at hiding. But you hunters became smarter and realized that two types of witches exist and you went after the natural born ones even though the sell-your-soul-for-magic types are the vicious, murderous kind. We're a thousand times more powerful but we…" Bella hums. "We **_like_** mortals. We want to live in peace with you. But you hunter assholes can't leave well enough alone. You think anything different is evil. And I'm crying like a little bitch because my coven is one of the only two covens of natural born witches left in the entire world. The other one only has five since four got killed in a hunter's raid last year, which makes that coven all the weaker. Imagine being the only hunters left in a world filled with creatures that want to kill you. That's how it is for us right now."

There's a strange, heavy silence as Dean absorbs this information. On the one hand, the fewer witches, the better. But on the contrary, Dean couldn't imagine being one of the only members of his species left on the entire planet. He can sort of see why Bella is discreetly wiping tears from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," Sam says.

Dean resists the urge to groan dramatically. His brother always had a soft spot for any pretty monster who cries big crocodile tears. It's clear that this witch is no exception.

"Thank you, Sam," Bella answers.

She and Sam are gazing at each other, Dean recognizing the curious look in his brother's eye. But he will not let Sammy befriend a witch, no matter how hot she is. Dean clears his throat loudly, and Bella jumps, startled.

"Don't do that!" she cries.

"Sorry," Dean shrugs.

"And would you stop playing with your machete?"

"No promises, sweetheart."

"Why?" Bella snaps. "Planning on murdering me?"

"Ah, maybe. You never know," he answers.

"Do you want to get in this with me, Winchester?" Bella threatens.

"Not really," Dean replies, smirking.

"And why is that? Scared?"

"Naw," Dean locks gazes with her. "It's because I'd kill you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Damn sure."

They stare at each other for a minute, Bella flexing her fingers. The street light about ten feet from them begins flickering.

"Is that you?" Dean asks.

"Yes. I'm trying to prove a point."

"What point is that?"

"That you should be scared of me."

"Why?"

Bella gives him a cocky smirk, not unlike the one Dean gave her mere seconds ago.

"Because I'd kill you."

"Oh?" says Dean. "I'm fuckin' terrified of flickering street lights."

"You should be. What if I could electrocute you with it?"

"Well then, maybe I could run you through with my blade."

Bella shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't know. Maybe I'd burn you alive or something."

"Maybe I'd tie you to a pole and burn you alive," Dean sneers. "Like they did in Salem. Like they did to your ancestors, right?"

Her eyes flash brightly. They look purple? What?

"Go to hell!"

"Already been down there, sweetheart. Didn't agree with me."

"Guys, enough!" Sam says. "Just calm the fuck down. All right?"

"I will if he does," Bella mutters.

"No promises," Dean repeats.

"God, I hate you."

"Bella!" Dean cracks a mocking grin. "We just met!"

"So? If you come after me, I will not even hesitate to skin you alive," she shakes her head. "Fuck it; I don't care enough about you to fight you. Who wants pie?"

Without waiting for any replies, she pulls out a cherry pie and a small can of whipped cream. Bella cuts generously huge pieces of each of them and Dean's mouth waters when she hands him a fork. The pie is gorgeous, and the top is latticed almost perfectly. Dean takes a huge bite, groaning inwardly in pleasure. Best fucking dessert ever. Why didn't he and Sam have pie after every hunt?

"Sam, do you want whipped cream?" Bella asks.

Sam shakes his head. "No thanks. Too much sugar."

Oh, _**that's**_ why. Because Dean's baby brother is a twig eating, green smoothie drinking, exercising freak. Dean shakes his head in exasperation and takes another bite.

"This is," he swallows the pie. "This is awesome. Where did you buy it?"

Bella's cheeks turn pink. "I-uhh-actually made it."

Dean stares at her.

"You made it?"

"Yeah. Crust, filling, the whole thing."

"The whole thing?"

"The whole damn thing."

Christ, she made this? The best fucking cherry pie he's had in a long time? Seriously? Wow, if that were the case, he wouldn't mind getting to know her a little more. Maybe she bakes naked. That's a sight Dean would have to see. Wait, what?

"Why do you look so surprised?" Bella says with a glare.

"You're a witch!" is all Dean can say.

"I still have human abilities, Winchester."

"And you bake?"

"I love to bake. Been baking since I was seven years old."

"Where does a witch learn to cook?" Dean screws up his face. "The fuckin' Hogwarts of food?"

Bella shakes her head, a small smile playing across her lips.

"No, from a cookbook."

"Don't be sarcastic with me," Dean replies.

"Don't sound so surprised when a witch tells you she can do human things."

"Don't be a witch who does human things for me to be shocked about!"

She giggles at him, and it startles him. She looks the type to giggle like a little girl, high-pitched and annoying. A 'tee hee hee' kind of laugh. But really, her laugh gives Dean a heady feeling, like he's falling from the top of Mount Everest or something. It's hot. Sexy. Wait, what? Goddamn it!

"Good comeback," Bella remarks.

Dean glares. "Oh, well, you know what, witch bitch? I-"

"Okay, okay, Fred and Ethel. Take a deep breath. Calm down. No murdering each other today, all right?" Sam says, holding up his hands.

Always the peacekeeper. Dean almost scowls at him again. He's giving a lot of evil looks today.

"We gotta go," he tells his brother instead.

"All right," Sam agrees.

"Hold on," Bella starts.

She pulls a pen from her hair, and it cascades down her back in loose curls. Dean notices that it's colorfully dyed and it looks like the ocean. It's bright blue and soft green. Her curls are fucking beautiful, and they shimmer when Bella walks over to Sam and grabs his hand. Dean's brain fades out again. That hair needs to be hanging over him as she rides him for hours, letting his hands touch her body however he wants. Sonofabitch, focus!

"Here's my cell number," Bella says, writing. "Call me if there's more Upyr activity down here. They rarely travel alone."

"Will do," Sam answers. "Thanks for the food."

"Anytime, Sam. Keep an eye on your brother, yeah?"

Sam laughs. "I'll try."

"Needs a muzzle, that one."

"You need a muzzle!" Dean snarks.

Bella turns to him, quirking an eyebrow.

"And don't talk about me as though I'm not right in front of you!" Dean adds.

Bella tilts her head, staring at Dean like he is the most exciting thing ever. Dean tries to ignore the fire in his blood at the sight of her so blatantly checking him out.

"Nice to meet you too, Winchester," she finally says with a mysterious smile on her pretty lips.

Bella wanders to her car and packs the trunk closed, leaving her bloody machete hidden under a pile of dirty rags. She waves at the brothers before sliding gracefully into the driver's seat. The car rumbles to life, and Dean almost grins as "Slip Kid" by The Who blares from her speakers and out the open window. With a squeal of tires, Bella drives away. Hopefully, Dean would see her again. Wait, what? Damn it, fucking enough!

"I liked her," Sam remarks, watching the red car disappear.

Dean clenches his jaw. "I'll admit it. Pie was good, the car was good, music taste was good, but she's a witch with a coven, Sammy. That cancels everything else out. If I see her again, I may have to kill her."

* * *

 **Well, thank you for reading everyone! Hope you liked it. And the song of the day is "Cherry Pie" by Warrant. Dean's stripper dream song ;)**


	3. Rhiannon

**(REWRITTEN!)**

 **Here's chapter three- there's no Dean, it's more focused on Bella and her witchcraft! I put translations down below since I did the spell in Latin.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

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 _"She is like a cat in the dark and then she is the darkness."_

 _ **October 10, 2008**_

"He said the way my green eyes shined, put those Georgia stars to shame that night. I said that's a lie. Just a boy in a Chevy truck that had the tendency of gettin' stuck on back roads at night! And I was right there beside him all summer-"

Bella's phone rings ear piercingly loud in the still blackness of her car. She is driving down to Alabama, tracking a djinn for her father who had gotten sick and couldn't take it out on his own. Djinn were one creature that scared the hell out of Bella. What they can do is terrifying. She totally does not want to see what her life would have been like if she was still in Italy with her birth parents. It would break her heart, she's sure.

"Hello?" Bella says nervously into the phone because who is calling her at three a.m?

"Izzy?"

Bella relaxes at the voice of her best friend.

"This call better be worth it, Annie. I was jamming to Taylor."

"Ooh, what song?" Annie Maxwell asks.

"Tim McGraw," Bella answers. "What's up?"

"Well okay. So how fast can you get here, do you think?"

The sound of a sewing machine powering down can be heard even through the phone's speakers, and Bella clicks her tongue, suddenly nervous. When Annie was in the zone, nothing but absolute hell could break through. And it must be dangerous or scary enough to stop Annie from making whatever it is she's creating. As a fashion designer, she spends about ninety percent of her life sewing. Distractions are far and few between unless Annie is scared of something.

"I'm driving still, Maxie," Bella says. "I've been driving all night and just hit Louisville. Will you just tell me what's going on?"

"Hunters," breathes Annie. "Hunters tracked me to my apartment."

"Cazzo," Bella swears in Italian. "How?"

"I was stupid, and they saw. The hunters saw me gathering herbs for Samhain. It probably didn't help that I had Jitsu with me, and of course, it was the worst timing ever because I was talking to her and the hunters probably heard her woof in that way that sounds like she's answering you. I'm pretty sure they've been watching me for a while though, and I don't know what to do!" she says breathlessly.

"Great. Because that's what we need right now; some stupid hunters sniffing around a week before Samhain," Bella says grouchily.

"Can you get here at all, do you think?"

"Maxie, I can't just leave my car and Convey over to you. Did you try Miranda?"

Annie groans, distressed. "She's in Nova Scotia, Bella! Besides, she's doing that thing with her band, remember?"

"Figlio di puttana," Bella says harshly.

"What do I do?" Annie whimpers. "I can't cast anything on them! They'll know and kill me before I can!"

Bella runs her fingers through her hair, tapping the wheel with her fingernails in thought. She has an idea of what to do, but it may not work. Goddesses tend not to be the best listeners out there. But then again, it is Baast. And she likes Bella.

Annie whimpers again. "I hear noises outside my door!"

"Fuck it," Bella says, throwing a hand up. "I'm on it, Annie. I'll get Baast. Hopefully, she's listening since it's Monday. Don't do something that will get you killed. Stay inside a circle and don't do a single damn thing!"

Annie sighs in relief. "Okay. But hurry!"

"All right."

Bella ends the call and steers her car off the quiet road and into a ditch. There's a forest to the immediate right of her, a good place to find a clearing and call for a Goddess. She dials another number and waits impatiently for someone in her family to answer the phone.

"C'mon, please someone. Nine siblings and no one's awake to answer?" she gripes.

"Hello?" a voice warbles sleepily on the other line.

"Winter!" Bella nearly yells. "Thank fuck! Is Dad awake?"

"It's three in the morning, Bella."

"Fine, can you just tell him that I couldn't take out the djinn that he asked me to take out? Annie needs me right now. I think it's bad, Win," Bella says quickly.

"Bad how?" Winter asks.

"Hunters are at her apartment as we speak. They caught her gathering stuff for Samhain."

"Fuck," Winter says to herself. "Okay, Bella. I'll tell Jace to get the djinn when he wakes up. He's already in Texas on that wraith hunt, anyway."

"Thanks, Win. I owe you one," Bella smiles wryly, although her sister can't see it, "Sorry for waking you, sis."

"'S okay," Winter answers. "But be good this time, okay? No corpses following you home."

"They weren't corpses, Win."

Winter laughs. "You know what I mean."

"All right, yes," relents Bella. "I'll be good."

"Good. Love you," Winter answers.

"Love you too. Go back to sleep."

"Oh, I plan on it. Bye."

Bella grins at her baby sister.

"Ciao."

After she hangs up her phone, Bella tucks it away somewhere safe and steps out of her car. She shoulders her duffel bag filled with all things 'magik' and heads into the woods with the intent of finding a clearing. It takes a while, but finally, there is a perfect spot where the grass is short enough for Bella to do her work. She places the cloth with the Witch's Knot stitched to it carefully on the ground. She then pulls four candles; two gold and two red, from the bag and places them on all four poles of the shape on the ground. North, South, East, and West. Bella unclips an agate charm from the necklace that she's wearing and, along with a cat's eye gem, puts the two stones in front of the Northernmost candle. Both these stones are for protection, something that Annie obviously needs right now. Bella sits down in the middle of the Witch's Knot (it is a huge alter cloth-almost blanket size) and places in front of her a box that contains a bright green piece of fabric, a bundle of fur from all of her cats, and a mirror used to reflect the moonlight. Lastly, she uses her self-produced fire to light each candle until all four are shimmering brightly. Bella takes a deep breath and begins the summoning.

"Carissimi Bastet, et domina, beatitudinem largitate gemina Solis Deus, destruere malum, quod soror mea sis: ut et vos, et manducabit imminet hostis, serpentem Apep. Salus tua sentiat calidum vt parces eius nocte."

Bella pulls the small dagger from her bra (she has it on her person at all times) and drags it across the skin of her palm, barely wincing. She makes a fist and squeezes a few drops onto the items in the box.

"Carissimi Bastet," Bella continues, "Hanc oblationem, quam tibi auxilium accipere soror venatores qui vis ad vitam evadere. Condere et adsistatis ei tutum in sempiterna secula!"

As she speaks the last word, all four candles go out, and the cat's eye glows for only a second.

"So mote it be," Bella whispers.

She quickly exhales her focus and uncrosses her legs from their cramped position, praying that it worked correctly and that the Egyptian cat Goddess was in a giving mood to help Annie. Just like the felines whose form she took, Baast was either very loving or very temperamental. But Bella always felt a strong connection with the Goddess. They both favor the element of fire, Bella being able to produce it from her fingertips. They both prefer cats to any other animal and enjoy moonlight over sunlight. Along with Persephone, Baast is the Goddess that Bella feels the most connected. Besides her Queen Mother Hecate, anyway.

As soon as the candles are cool to the touch, Bella picks them up and closes the lid on the small box. She tucks everything in her bag and folds up the altar cloth for good measure. She doesn't want to leave anything magic behind, lest she draws the unwanted attention of the maddening and slightly terrifying folks who live in the 'Bible Belt.' They probably wouldn't appreciate coming across what would look to them like devil worship. And Bella is so not in the mood to start another goddamn satanic panic. She wanders back to her car and sets her bag back in the trunk. She then pulls out a cold cherry Coke, popping the tab and chugging half of it in relief. Protection spells always made one's body heat increase twofold. Bella situates herself on top of her now closed trunk and sits in silence, enjoying the night. She stares up at the sky, quickly finding the moon. It would be full in four days, and Bella couldn't wait. It had been awhile since she released her Pagan side and danced in next to nothing under the light of a full moon.

At that moment, her phone rings again, and Bella winces as Johnny Rotten's angry voice breaks the quiet silence of the surrounding back roads and forests.

"Hello?" she says.

"Izzy?" It's Annie.

"Yeah? Are you okay?" Bella asks.

"Yes. Look, whatever you did, it worked. Vanished without a trace. You didn't kill them, did you?" wonders Annie.

"No," Bella replies. "Baast just cloaked you from them. She banished them as she did to Apep, the snake god of chaos."

Annie lets out a huge breath.

"Thank the Goddesses. I was so scared that I accidentally sewed the neck hole on this dress closed!"

Bella snorts so violently that some soda spews from her nose. It gets all over the front of her shirt, but she doesn't care as she starts to laugh at her best friend.

"You could wear it like a thneed!" Bella croons.

Annie snorts too. "Don't thneeds have long sleeves and three head holes?"

"I don't know, but a thneed seems like a very versatile piece of clothing," Bella says, matter-of-factly. "Everyone needs one in their wardrobe. Be like the Once-Ler and start to sell them. You'll make a fortune. Just be careful with using up too much cotton or whatever fabric you've done them out of. Don't want the Lorax to come after you, you know."

"I don't even know why I talk to you anymore," Annie remarks.

"Because I'm your best friend, Maxie."

"Well, mostly."

"Completely."

"All right, all right, fine," Annie says. "You're completely my best friend."

"And don't you forget it, babes," Bella says.

"Never," Annie pauses. "I think I'm going to bed. Thanks again, Iz."

"Anything for you, Annie. Buona notte," Bella says in Italian.

"Bonne nuit," Annie answers in French.

Bella smiles to herself as they hang up. It is a thing the two girls do. Annie is fluent in French and Bella, Italian. Bella can understand French, but can't speak it as well as Annie. Annie can comprehend Italian, but can't speak it as well as Bella. So to compensate, Annie will talk to Bella in French and Bella will answer in Italian. It's a weird way to communicate when both parties know English, but that's just them. A best friend thing. A strange bond like no other. Maybe it's a witch thing? Although they were friends before the coven officially formed, so maybe Bella will never know.

All Bella understands is that she loves Annie to pieces and she knows that Annie feels the same.

* * *

 **(First Meaning: Beloved Bast, mistress of happiness and bounty, twin of the Sun God, destroy the evil that threatens my sister just as you destroy your enemy, the serpent Apep. Let her feel the warm safety of your protection as you watch over her this night. Second Meaning: Beloved Baast, take this offering as you help my sister escape the hunters that want her life. Help her to hide and be safe for now and forevermore)**

 **The song is "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac.**


	4. This is Halloween

**(REWRITTEN!)**

 **This chapter follows the story line of _It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester_ (season 4 episode 7, I believe?)**

* * *

 _"Boys and girls of every age, would you like to see something strange?"_

 _ **October 31, 2008**_

Dean sticks his hand in the three-pound bag of Halloween candy. He had just purchased it yesterday, and there is nothing left. He digs past the little pouches of candy corn, bypasses the Smarties, and disregards the Dubble Bubble. (How is gum considered candy, Halloween store? How? Dumb asses.) Dean ends up finding an electric blue Tootsie Roll and sighs in defeat as he unwraps it and sticks it in his mouth. It doesn't taste like the blue raspberry that it claims to taste like, but everything else (at least everything good) is gone already.

"Really?" Sam, who is sitting at the tiny motel table, glances up from the book he's reading to shoot Dean an angry look. "After that guy choked down those razor blades?"

Dean strides back to his brother, struggling with getting the Tootsie Roll out of his teeth. The candy makes him lisp when he talks.

"C'mon Shammy it'sh Halloween!"

Sam snorts. "Yeah, for us, every day is Halloween."

"Don't be a downer, little brother. Did you find anythin' intereshting?"

"Well," Sam gestures to the hex bag in front of him, "We're on a witch hunt, that's for sure. But this isn't your typical hex bag."

"In what way?" Dean says, finally getting the candy from out of his teeth.

"See this?" Sam holds up a dry, old plant. "It's Goldthread. A herb that's been extinct for two hundred years."

"Damn," answers Dean. "What else?"

"This piece of silver right here? It's Celtic, and I don't mean some new age knockoff. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real."

"So what's this then?" Dean asks, pointing to a piece of something.

He picks it up gingerly, examining it. It had burned to the point of cracking, and Dean thinks that it looks like an overdone chicken bone.

"That is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby," Sam reports after a quick glance at the book.

"Euggh!" Dean cries, throwing it on the table. "Gross!"

"Relax, man," Sam teases. "It's at least a hundred years old."

"So like that makes it better?" Dean shudders. "Witches, man. They're so fuckin' skeevy."

"Not all witches though."

Back at his bed, Dean looks up from the laptop with a frown at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. Yes, all witches. Skeevy, creepy, murderous, bloodthirsty things, witches are."

"What about Bella?" Sam says.

"What about her?" Dean says suspiciously.

"I don't know," Sam pauses. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

Dean narrows his eyes. "What are you doin'?"

"Nothing! I'm just saying that she's hot, right?"

"No."

"Oh come on, not even a little bit?"

"Not."

"You know," a smirk spreads across Sam's face. "I saw the internet history."

"And?" Dean asks icily.

"You Googled her, dude. And you didn't think I'd see that?"

Dean 's jaw almost drops open in surprise. Okay, it is now official, he needs to figure out how to clear the Google one letter search thing because his brother is like some goddamn soccer mom.

"It was research," Dean covers up. "I was lookin' to see if she had a record. You know, wanted for vicious murder or somethin'."

"Mhmm."

"What do you mean 'mhmm'?"

"Oh nothing," Sam shrugs idly. "You-her- I mean, there was some significant sexual tension going on, Dean."

"Fuck no. Bella's a fuckin' witch Sam!" Dean shouts. "She'd probably slit my throat and drink my blood or somethin'!"

"Who are you trying to convince, Dean? Me or you?" Sam's phone rings and he grabs it before finishing his remark, "Because you couldn't stop staring at her ass back in Albany. You weren't exactly subtle about it. "

Dean gives the back of Sam's head a fierce glare, the one that can paralyze vampires and petrify demons into submission. But his brother doesn't even turn around. As Sam talks on the phone, Dean goes back to the laptop and searches 'how to clear your Google search history.' After learning how to do just that, he types Bella's name in the search bar, and presses enter. Porn sites flood the page. Dean's eyes widen, and he clicks on the first thing he sees. It's a website for a bar and dance club up in Toronto. He goes a step further and clicks on the 'meet our girls' tab. Bella's face is the third one down. It's one of those professional headshot pictures, and her hair is dyed to look like fire. Apparently, she works for this bar. Dean wonders if she strips for them too. He'll have to ask. For research purposes. It's not like he cares or anything.

"Dean?" Sam says urgently.

"Yeah?" Dean says, his eyes still on Bella's picture.

"Someone else died."

"Really?" Dean groans. "Sonofabitch."

The brothers rush out to the Impala and slide in quickly. Luckily, the vic's house isn't that far away from the motel, and at the rate, Dean is driving, the brothers make it in under five minutes. They get out of the car, shrug on their suit coats, and walk over to the house where an apple bobbing incident has left one teenage girl dead. The city police are already at the scene, and the Winchesters flash their Fed badges at the sheriff.

"Oh, agents," says the man. "One of yours is already here."

"What?" Sam says, surprised.

Dean elbows Sam and gives him a little nod at the woman in the FBI jacket and hat. She turns around, and Dean gets a jolt as he sees that this hunter-playing-Fed is Bella.

"Oh. Yes, she came ahead of us. We were working on another case before we came here and were just finishing up when we got your call," Sam lies smoothly.

"Nice one," Dean says under his breath.

"All right. Glad you're here. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thank you, Sheriff."

The sheriff nods at the hunters and walks away back to his men. They huddle close together, mumbling under their breath about a possible overheating incident. Something about the water being boiled before the game and not cooling properly before the teens went bobbing. Dean dismisses that because as he knows, that's absolute bullshit. Besides, who would be stupid enough to boil water before sticking their face in it? Not even teenagers are that dumb. (Well, okay. Maybe Dean was that dumb. But not idiotic enough to boil water before sticking his damn face in it, all right?)

"I'll check for hex bags," Sam says. "Go talk to Bella."

"Why do I have to?" Dean says grumpily.

Sam shrugs. "Because you want to sleep with her."

"No, I do-"

"Good luck!" Sam says.

Grumbling at his brother, Dean strides confidently over to Bella. She's questioning a very scared looking teenage girl. Dean straightens his tie and clears his throat importantly.

"Agent," he says.

Bella twists around and raises an eyebrow as she looks Dean over.

"Agent," she replies. "Kelsey was just telling me what happened."

'Oh, good. And did Kelsey say whether or not she knew Luke Wallace?" Dean inquires.

"She doesn't know him," Bella answers.

Dean waves his hand. "Kelsey, you can go."

"Thank you," Bella adds.

The girl scurries away and goes to huddle up with her group of friends. They all have identical looks of fear and sadness on their faces.

"So," Dean says to Bella. "What do you have so far?"

"Luke Wallace swallowed razor blades, this girl's face was boiled off. I have a theory, but I need more," Bella says.

"What's your theory?"

"I don't want to tell you yet. I need more evidence to further clear things up."

"And what did Kelsey tell you?"

"She doesn't know Luke Wallace. She wasn't even friends with the other vic. And she said that as soon as the girl died, her friend ran out of the house and down the street screaming."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Who was the friend?"

"I'm getting to that," Bella answers.

"And how do you know that Kelsey was telling the truth?"

"Her energy didn't feel like it was a lie."

"Her energy?" Dean says.

"Yeah, you know. Kelsey's aura or whatever."

"You can feel that?"

Bella bobs her head. "All natural borns can."

"Hmm. That's kinda awesome."

At that moment, Sam appears. As he approaches the two hunters disguised as Feds, he pulls a hex bag from his coat pocket.

"This was behind the couch," he says. "Hi, Bella."

"Hi, Sam."

"Another hex bag?" Dean asks.

Sam nods. "Let's go back to the motel and dissect this. Bella, you want in?"

Bella sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Yeah."

"She has a theory," Dean tells Sam.

"You do?"

"Mmm," hums Bella. "And this hex bag has just added to the proof."

"Agent Sutcliffe," a policeman walks up to Bella, "Are you finished questioning the kids?"

"Yes," she says. "Tell 'em to go home and take a warm, relaxing shower or something, Deputy."

"Will do."

"Oh, you're Stu Sutcliffe?" Dean says as the Deputy walks away. "Like the old bassist for the Beatles?"

"Yeah. You approve?" she asks Dean.

"A girl after my own heart."

The two grin at each other and Dean can't help but look straight in those sharp eyes of hers. They sparkle up at him intelligently. Their little moment breaks when Bella coughs a little, a light pinkish hue painted across her cheeks.

"We should go," she mutters.

"Follow us back to our motel, okay?" Sam says.

The three begin to walk down the driveway and through the street. Bella pulls off her hat as soon as they're far enough away from the police. Dean watches it cascade down her back in tight curls. It's now lavender, like the sky at sunset. Dean wants to run his fingers through it. Was it as soft as it looked? Bella does that sexy thing that girls do where they run their hand through the top part of their hair and flip half of it to one side. He loves watching her fingers, wanting those black-tipped nails leaving marks down his back as he thrust into her. Wait, what? Again with this, Winchester?

"That color is again FBI regulations," Dean says instead.

"I like it," Sam adds.

"Why, thank you, Sam," Bella answers. "And Winchester, I believe the rule is that you can have dyed hair so as long as it's covered up. So with the hat, I'm okay."

The little group stops in front of the Impala and Bella waves vaguely down the street.

"My car is down that way."

"Our motel's on Sparrow Street. Room 17," Sam tells her.

"Okay. Meet you there in five," says Bella.

With a whirl of lavender, she's gone, walking briskly to her car. Dean watches her go, enjoying the way her legs look sticking out of the borderline illegally short dress. They're in some tiny Midwestern town in the middle of fall, and yet, Bella's legs are managing to look gloriously tan. Dean wonders how they would look wrapped around his waist. Wait, what? Fuck! As soon as Bella is out of sight (and out of mind), Dean turns to the Impala and gets into the driver's seat.

"How come she calls you Sam, but I get Winchester?" Dean says to Sam.

Sam grins. "I thought you didn't care?"

"I don't!" Dean defends, and Sam snorts derisively. "I DON'T! I just wish she'd call me Dean."

Sam's grin widens. "Uh-huh, sure. Just admit that you love it and you want to sleep with her."

"I do not!" Dean says harshly.

"You do," Sam shoots back.

"Bitch."

"Jerk... And you so want her."

"Shut up, Sam!"

Dean shoots an angry look at his brother. He so does not want to roll a damn witch around in the sheets, for fuck's sake! What doesn't Sammy understand? Finally, the Impala turns into the parking lot of the motel and Dean parks right across from Bella's red car. He locks up his Baby and trails Sam to their motel room, where Bella is waiting outside, smoking a cigarette.

"You smoke?" Dean asks.

He totally was not imagining those perfect red lips wrapped around his- Wait, what?

"It's pretty much just a small joint," Bella explains. "Not enough to get me high."

"Really? Why?" Sam says.

"Pretending to be a Fed gets me nervous."

"Don't smoke it in here," Dean commands.

"Yes'm," Bella says, rolling her eyes.

She throws the butt of the joint onto the concrete and stomps it out with her high heeled shoe before following Dean inside. Sam already has the hex bag unwrapped and is staring at the contents.

"Same as the Wallace one," he reports.

"What?" Bella asks.

"Goldthread, Celtic coin, baby bone."

"Porca troia," Bella mumbles to herself, "I so did not want to be right. But Lottie saw it. Damn."

"Do you wanna share with the class?" says Dean.

"It's a spell," Bella answers slowly.

"We worked that out, funnily enough."

Bella runs her hand through her hair, still mumbling to herself.

"Three sacrifices over three days, the last one before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Porca troia, this is bad."

"What are the blood sacrifices for, Bella?"

Bella looks at Sam and then Dean, as though she had forgotten that they were there.

"Samhain," she says. "A witch is raising Samhain."

"Who's that?"

"He's the damn origin of Halloween, Dean," Sam says, looking uneasy. "He got exorcised centuries ago. We need to stay on our toes."

"Samhain the demon was named after the Pagan Sabbat Samhain," Bella explains, pronouncing the second Samhain like 'SOW-in,' "It's a festival that honors dead loved ones, and it's when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. The dead walk among the living on Samhain, which is where the idea of dressing up in costume came from. It's to hide from the dead. It's one of the Sabbats that my coven celebrates. I would be there now if this weren't as big of a problem as it is."

"So your holiday of Samhain is what one of the most dangerous demons in the world is named? That's not satanic or anything," Dean says.

Bella glares at him. "I'm sure it was one of you who decided that!"

"One of us?"

"Yes, you witch-hunters! You're always judging us witches with your close-minded, asshole ideas! Excuse us for not being exactly like you! Excuse us for worshipping goddesses and chanting! Excuse us for-"

"For killing innocent people, for raisin' demons, for burnin' babies' bones, for doing fuckin' evil shit?" Dean mocks.

"This is not the work of a natural born!" Bella yells. "This is a demonic witch!"

"You're all the same in my book. Evil and need to be ganked," replies Dean.

"Shut up, just shut up! What do you know? You know NOTHING, you fucking hunter jerk!" Bella shouts, her fingers twitching, and at the last word, the light above them blows out.

"What the hell did you do?" Dean growls.

"You pissed me off!" Bella cries.

"Oh, so you blow up a light fixture?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh my Goddesses, would you give it a rest? In case you haven't noticed, we're in trouble here, Winchester!"

"I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance," Dean mutters.

"What?" Bella shouts. "What was that? I didn't hear you!"

"I said I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

"Hmm?"

"GODDAMN IT, I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!" Dean yells in his authoritative hunter voice.

But Bella doesn't back down. Instead, she glares right back at him, and the light next to the bed flickers as though ridiculing Dean. She curls her finger in a come-hither gesture. It would be hot if Dean weren't ready to slice her in half.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bella asks. "I got nothing to lose, kid. Bring it on."

"Hold on," Sam says. "What do you mean you have nothing to lose?"

"It's nothing."

"Bella-"

"No, Sam."

"Bella, you can tell me," Sam murmurs.

"Fine," she swallows audibly. "About a week ago, my friend Annie was almost attacked by hunters. I sent them away, but then they found another witch from our coven, Dani. She was doing a simple spell, something about making her nose smaller or something, but the hunters heard her chanting in a ring of candles and took her out. She died instantly, no fancy lights or screaming. Which is not what your boys expected, I heard. Apparently, they thought witches burst into flames or something after you kill them," Bella murmurs, sagging against the wall.

There are a few moments of silence. Dean feels a small wave of pity, but then yells at himself and squashes it down.

"I'm so sorry Bella," Sam replies.

"Thanks, but we're all pretty angry at hunters right now," Bella says. "We lost a sister because of you assholes, and we didn't even get to bury her. Your boys burned her body, on a stake no less, before we could get to it."

"So, I'm confused," interrupts Dean. "Hunters were after your one friend, but you sent them away? How?"

"Is that really what you're getting out of this? I was protecting Annie, and they killed another natural born."

"She was a witch."

"Wow," Bella snorts violently. "Thanks for your concern. They murdered my damn friend in cold blood."

"The less of you, the better, sweetheart," Dean remarks.

Her eyes widen, and her lips curl up into a sneer. But Dean notices that she's fighting back some tears. Okay, maybe he went too far. Wait, what? No, he didn't!

"Fuck you, Winchester. God, I hate you so much! We deserve to live as much as the next guy! Forget it; I'm out of here. I'm done."

"Wait, Bella. My brother's sorry he's acting like such a moron. Aren't you Dean?" Sam says.

"No."

Sam runs his hand over his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake Dean."

With another roll of her eyes (Dean wonders how she can do it so often without getting a headache), Bella stalks out of the room. She lets the door slam closed with a 'bang,' forceful enough that the windows rattle. Dean realizes that Sam is glowering at him.

"What?"

"If you want to hit that, I suggest not acting like such a dick."

Dean pulls an innocent, confused face. "What did I do?"

"You're treating her like a monster!" Sam cries.

"Because she is one, Sam! How many good witches other than Glinda do we even know?!"

"Don't you think if she wanted to kill us, we'd be dead already, Dean?"

"Maybe she's bindin' her time, waiting for us to let our guard down before-"

"Dean," a gruff voice intervenes.

Sam and Dean turn to see who the speaker is. Sam immediately pulls his gun out, but Dean knows who this is.

"Sam, calm down. This is Castiel."

A second angel appears, and Dean pulls a face as the guy turns to stare out the window.

"And him I don't know."

Sam approaches Castiel hesitantly, gazing at him with something akin to awe.

"Hello Sam," Castiel says slowly.

"Oh my God," Sam lowers his gun, stuttering nervously, "I-err-I'm sorry-It's an honor-I-I've heard so much about you!"

"And I you," the angel replies. "Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

Sam's face falls. "I-"

"I'm glad to see you've ceased those activities," Castiel finishes.

"Let's keep it that way," the angel near the window says slowly.

"Yeah, he'll keep that in mind, Chuckles," says Dean. "Who's your friend, Cas?"

"This raising of Samhain?" Castiel asks, ignoring Dean's question. "Have you stopped it?"

"Why?"

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"We're-uh-we're workin' on it."

Castiel looks upset, weirdly enough. Dean has never seen any expression but quiet disdain for all humankind on his face.

"You do not know who she is?"

"It's a process, Cas."

"Well, that's quite unfortunate."

"Why?" Dean asks again.

"The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals," Castiel says.

"So this is about your buddy Lucifer?"

The angel shakes his head. "Lucifer is no friend of ours."

Dean raises an eyebrow. Sarcasm just goes right over the head of this guy, doesn't it? Damn, take a joke, you feathery dick.

"He cannot rise, Dean. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs," Castiel reminds.

"Why don't you tell us who she is and where, so we can gank her and all go home?"

"We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful and cloaked even from us."

Sam clears his throat. "Look, guys, if we just work together-"

"Enough of this," the other angel snaps, finally turning around.

"Yeah, okay," Dean says. "So, who are you and why should I care?"

"This is Uriel. He's what you might call a specialist," sighs Castiel.

"A specialist?" Sam repeats.

Castiel nods. "We recommend that you and Dean leave this town immediately."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to destroy it."

* * *

 **The song is "This is Halloween." I was thinking of the original version, but I do like the P!atD version.**


	5. Wicked Old Witch

**(REWRITTEN!)**

 **This is a continuation from chapter four, of course. Oh and just to warn you, the next chapter contains lovely lovely Dean Winchester sex.**

* * *

 _"Shriveled old lady with a tombstone mouth. Scarin' up trouble at the haunted house."_

Bella groans, running her hand through her hair. Seeing as her Samhain theory was correct, she now has an inkling of who this witch is. But she needs to double check. Opening the door to her motel room, Bella looks around for any sign of life and seeing no one, scurries inside. She double locks the door and pulls down the blinds for good measure. Finding her duffel bag of magic, Bella retrieves a black candle and a white candle. She also finds a map of the town that the man at the front desk had given her and she sets that out. Bella unfolds the map and puts one candle at the top and one candle on the bottom. First, she has to find the witch. Then she has to figure out who the witch is. Although, she has an idea that keeps getting clearer the longer she thinks about it. (Not that it is a good idea. In fact, it's shitty, and Bella so does not want to be right.) She lights the candles with her self-made fire and then screws her eyes closed in concentration.

"Ego oro ad te Hekate, Regina Matre Strigae. Decidit via obscura de liberis. Ubi est, o mater, ut prohibeatis eam sublato ab eo daemonium et Samhain unleasing in interitum huius mundi? Ubi est, o Hekate Regina Matre Strigae?"

She takes a finger, already on fire, and puts it to the map. The magic flames spread across the paper and burn out everything until Bella yells "Satis!" and the fire stops burning.

"So mote it be," Bella whispers.

The map goes black except for one spot. Bella points to it and sees that it's the address to the town hall. That's where the witch is.

"Blessed be," she murmurs to Hecate.

Bella picks up her phone and dials Sam Winchester's phone number. She waits with baited breath as it rings and rings. Finally, after what feels like a hundred fucking years, someone picks up, and without waiting for a "Hello," Bella begins to talk frantically.

"Sam, I know where the witch is," she pants.

"Where?" Sam asks.

Another voice speaks. "It's you, is it not? You are the witch trying to raise Samhain. I can sense your power."

Bella raises her eyebrows in confusion.

"Sam? Who am I talking to?"

"That's Uriel. He's an angel."

"You guys are working with angels now?"

Sam clicks his tongue. "It's a long story."

Bella hears a muffled "give me that" and there's shuffling around. She bites back a smile at what is assumed to be Dean wanting to talk to her. Bella isn't stupid; she noticed him staring. And she has to think that he's pretty damn good looking too. She wants to count his freckles and stare into his green eyes and run her fingers across his muscles and hear him moan her name when she sucks his cock. Woah, chill out there! (Does his cock have freckles too?) Porca troia, enough Bella!

"Rossi?" Dean says. "Where's the witch?"

"She's in the basement of the town hall," Bella answers.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I did a tracking spell."

"Fuck, you're awesome," Dean says. "Stupid angels were gonna obliterate the damn town."

"With all these people?"

"Yeah. They're only concerned with protectin' the sixty-six seals or whatever."

"Ah," says Bella. "The Devil. Right."

"How do you kn- Christ, never mind. We better go," Dean says.

"Okay. In bocca al lupo."

"What?" Dean wonders.

"Sorry," Bella says. "It means 'good luck' in Italian."

"Oh, thanks, I guess."

The call ends, and Bella puts her phone off to the side. If the witch is who she thinks it is, the Winchesters have no chance, and Bella needs to get over to the town hall as soon as possible. But she still needs to make sure. Bella puts her headphones in her ears, and her iPod begins to play soft Celtic music. She lays herself down on her back, shutting her eyes and spreading her arms out on the bed sheets. Breathing in the special way she was taught, it's only after ten minutes (a record!) that Bella can feel herself drifting out of her body as the astral projection begins. Her energy surrounds her, and she sits up, making sure that she is still safely attached to her physical body. It is, so Bella stands and wanders through the closed door.

There are so many auras around her as she moves through the streets. Higher energy beings that gaze at her with questions in their eyes. Bella manages them a passing smile. Then there are lower energy beings. Demons and evil creatures, surely waiting for their master Samhain to call upon them. But on her physical body, Bella has a crystal of jet, and one of celestite clutched in her hands so these dark energy beings cannot harm her. And she can also feel her protector Papa Legba with her. Her Vodou Loa is in a beautiful female form today, wandering around next to her and puffing on his ever-present corncob pipe.

"Hello Papa," says Bella.

"Hello, dear one," he replies. "What are you doing in my realm today?"

"Hoping that the witch trying to raise Samhain isn't who I think she is."

"Ah," says Papa. "Quite right of you."

It's a quick trek to the town hall in her astral form, and Bella has to be careful because surely the witch has spells up that prevent anyone from getting to her and alerting her if anyone does. Bella just needs to see who it is. She moves carefully through the building and ends up at a set of stairs leading to the basement. She steps down them cautiously, watching for any sign of danger. If the witch somehow cut the string that ties Bella's astral to her physical form, her body will die, and Bella's spirit will be left to wander forever. It's not a good thing to have that connection hurt in any way.

She finally arrives at the bottom of the stairs and peers around the corner. A witch stands there, facing away from Bella, but she can sense the identifying energy. It's who Bella thought it was.

"Tracy," she whispers.

She hears Papa's warning of "Go child" and then Bella's running back up the stairs and out of the building. She sprints through the streets and goes through her motel room door. Bella slams herself back into her body so fast that she wakes up dizzy. She groans, holding her head and sees that the name 'Tracy' is burned into her hand. Her astral self understands that she has a terrible time trying to remember what happened when she traveled, and as such, it always leaves her little reminders in the form of light burns. The name quickly fades away, leaving no trace that it was ever there.

"Damn it," Bella mutters. "They're in deep, deep shit."

Bella grabs a small vial from her bag. It's filled with demon blood, and it will be very helpful with what she has to do. She slips on a pair of sneakers, and without even leaving her motel room, Bella closes her eyes and uses Conveyance.

The wind picks her up, and she speeds to the town hall, feeling pressure on every part of her body. It's like she's inside a never ending MRI machine and the walls are closing in on her. The first time she did it, Bella came up only five feet away, panting. Her lungs felt like they were on fire and the feeling of drowning had overwhelmed her, and it took three months before she was ready to try again. But now, Conveying comes as easy to her as breathing. And if she doesn't think about it too hard, the panicky feeling is pretty nonexistent. She ends up right where she was aiming for, the top of the stairs of the town hall. Her feet make a soft 'thump' as she lands, but the sound is muffled at the voices down in the basement.

"My love," Bella hears.

She sticks her tongue out. How grosser can you get? That you love a demon so much that you'd do anything for it?

"You've aged," a deeper voice says.

That has to be Samhain. He's risen, and it's time for Bella to act. She begins moving down the stairs.

"This face, I can't fool you," Tracy says.

"Your beauty is beyond time."

Bella nearly gags. Like really? What the fuck? She's in the basement now, striding towards Tracy and her demon lover. The two Winchesters are lying still on the floor; blood smeared all over their faces. Bella almost laughs. What golden boys, these hunters are. Using blood as a mask to hide from Samhain? Smart as all hell.

"Okay," Bella says to the evil party up front. "That's cute. Creepy, really fucking disturbing, but you're not supposed to be here, you two crazy kids."

Tracy whirls around to face her and the older witch's lip curls.

"You! What do you want? I knew I felt someone in here before!"

"Is that why you've been hiding from me?" Bella asks idly.

"Hide from you? Hide from you? You talk as though I'm afraid," Tracy scoffs.

"Aren't you, Auntie?"

"No!"

Tracy waves her hand as though to swat Bella away, but Bella stands firm and walks closer.

"I can't believe that you are still in love with this... this thing after all these years. I thought you were smarter than that. Build a bridge and get over it, all that jazz. But no. Sei una idiota!"

"Not all of us can be born with power, Isabella. Some of us have to ask for it."

Bella raises an eyebrow. "By selling your soul to a demon?"

"You don't understand, why would you?" snarls Tracy. "You've never had to fight for anything!"

"Still stuck on this, huh? You always were jealous of your sister, weren't you? My great-aunt, the fucking 'powerful' Tracy. Six hundred years old and still a crappy witch though. Demonic powers don't have shit on real magic, you know. And why would Samhain even want you? He already got your soul! What else can you give him?" Bella says, her lip curled in disdain.

"You know, I always assumed I would be the one to kill you since I killed your family and all that. I just didn't think it would be so soon," Tracy smirks. "We had such a bond, you and me."

"A bond with you?" Bella scoffs. "Yeah fucking right."

"Don't you miss me?" Tracy mocks. "Miss your Auntie Tracy?"

"I miss who you used to be. Not this evil, soul-destroying demon lady with so-called 'witch magic.'"

That makes Tracy mad. "I AM a witch! How dare you say otherwise?!"

"Are not."

"Am!"

"Are not," Bella answers pointedly.

"AM! Oh, what use is this, arguing with a child?" Tracy says. "I am six hundred years old and have been waiting for this night for a very long time."

"See, Auntie," Bella clicks her tongue. "That's where you're wrong."

Tracy cocks an eyebrow at Bella as if to say 'go on.'

"I've been waiting for this day. Nearly seven years, in fact," Bella says.

"So that's what this is? Revenge?"

"Well, yes and no."

"Didn't your little hunting family ever tell you that you shouldn't kill based on revenge?" Tracy sneers.

"Like you did? A bit hypocritical of you to say, Auntie."

"It was not a revenge kill!" Tracy cries. "I did it because I had to!"

Neither Tracy nor the Winchester brothers have noticed that while Tracy has been arguing with her niece, Bella has been muttering Latin words under her breath, her lips barely moving.

Bella rolls her eyes. "You had to kill your sister? Her daughters?"

"At the risk of them overpowering me."

"My mamma and Granny Kyna had no power!" shouts Bella, her calm facade finally crumbling. "It skipped them and passed to me!"

"A mistake I'm sure they will come to regret," Tracy hums. "You were never as strong in mind and spirit as they were. Mary was ashamed."

"You killed her before I was born, you absolute puttana!"

"Minor details, Isabella. Her ghost was ashamed of you."

"No, she wasn't."

Bella's voice has dropped dangerously low, and her accent thickens, a clue that means she's getting angry and her powers are bound to erupt out to attack the subject of her fury.

"Why am I bothering arguing with such a young thing?" Tracy says to herself. "Samhain and I, we have business to tend to. My love-"

She turns to gaze up at Samhain again, a sloppy, love struck look gracing her beautiful face. (For a six-hundred-year-old witch, Tracy has done well for herself regarding appearance.) But she sees that her former demon lover is not moving. His eyes are flitting back and forth, but otherwise, it looks as though he is swept up in an adamant case of rigor mortis.

"W-what did you do to him?" Tracy warbles.

Bella smiles sweetly and holds up the vial of demon blood.

"I've kept it all these years, Auntie. Do you remember that when a mortal sells her soul to a demon for magic, they seal the deal with a kiss? Well, it turns out that that kiss mingles the blood a little; demons like to nibble on their witch lovers. Just one drop of Samhain's blood in your system is all I needed. Blood magic is the most powerful magic of all, you know."

"Let him go!" Tracy begs.

"Wait a minute, are you begging? Are you asking me to spare him? You've killed, Auntie. You and this piece of shit have killed so many damn innocent people, and you want me to save him!? Are you fucking with me!?" Bella says.

"Just let him go!"

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica poestas, omnis incursion, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…" Bella starts.

"No!" the monster that used to be her Auntie Tracy yells. "Leave him alone!"

Bella ignores her and continues. "Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae. Perdititionis venenum propinare…"

Tracy rushes at Bella, eyes bright with demonic witch anger. But natural borns have always been stronger, and suddenly, Bella gently waves her hand, and Tracy flies to the concrete wall. The older witch struggles against Bella's invisible bonds, but to no avail.

"You should know better," Bella murmurs, shaking her head.

She turns back to Samhain and holds her hands out in front of her.

"Vade, Satana inventor et magister, omnis fallaciae hosted humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge invocato a, nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diabolic, libera nos, Domine," Tracy struggles harder and Bella ignores her, "Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias, libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi… NOS!"

"NO, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Tracy screams.

Samhain spews from the poor art teacher's body and dissolves into the floor. He's gone and back where he belongs. The broken cement melds together once more with another wave of Bella's fingers. Tracy is crying, and Bella is looking at her with pity as she continues to hold her against the wall.

"I don't want to kill you," she coos, stroking Tracy's cheek.

Tracy spits, and she gets Bella on the nose. "You might as well because I'll just wait another six hundred years and raise him again! And you'll be gone, and you won't be able to stop me!"

"Auntie-"

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT! I'LL KILL YOU, ISABELLA! I'LL KILL THE REST OF YOUR FAMILY! I'LL KILL YOUR COVEN! GO TO HELL! GO TO MOTHERFUCKING-"

Bella tightens her jaw, staring hard at Tracy. She raises her hand and curves her fingers like she is holding a doorknob. Bella sharply turns her wrist, and the sound of Tracy's neck cracking reverberates throughout the room. The older witch's lingering scream is the only noise left over, echoing as Bella lets the body topple to the ground. She wipes the spit from her face and smiles triumphantly. Then she blinks. And thinks. And blinks. She has just killed her aunt. The only living biological relative that she has left. Does this mean that she has now stooped to Tracy's level? Is Bella evil now? With a one way ticket to Tartarus? Oh God, why didn't she just make a compromise? What is wrong with her?

"Sickening, evil, murderous, hateful. Yes, you are."

Bella's legs give out, and she falls to the floor, curling herself up into a little ball. The Winchesters cautiously approach her as she begins to rock in the fetal position.

"I killed her. Oh my fucking God, I killed her. Oh, my God. Oh my fucking God."

"Bella," Sam starts softly, "You just saved millions of people's lives."

"And I just killed the last surviving member of my family, Sam! With my magic, no less."

Dean looks like he wants to say something, but Sam stops him with a sharp look.

"Just don't, Dean. Bella, let's just get you back to your motel, okay?"

She nods tentatively, taking the giant hand that he offers her. Sam helps her up off of the cold ground and Bella wipes at her face, still sniffling. Her makeup is smeared all around her eyes, and she finds this out when she rubs them, and she leaves behind streaks of black eyeliner on her fingers.

"So," Dean says as the three move out of the building, "That was pretty-"

"What?" Bella scoffs. "Ugly? Terrible? Disgusting? Let me guess; you want to kill me now?"

"No. That was pretty badass of you," Dean pauses. "Although, now that you mention it, I suddenly have the urge to burn you alive."

Not in the mood for his stupid, Winchester-y games, Bella scowls.

"Fuck off."

She unlocks her car, climbs in, and glances up at Sam through the open window.

"Thanks."

"Are you okay to drive?" Sam replies worriedly.

"Yeah. I'm good."

"Get some rest, Bella."

"I will. See you, Sam."

The car rumbles to life, and Bella turns off her Ramones CD. She is feeling a headache coming on- which may or may not be followed by a crashed episode. The car pulls onto the main road, and Bella breathes in a huge lungful of air, wanting nothing more than to drink a gallon of vodka. Or maybe smoke an entire gram of weed- it has yet to be decided.

All she knows is that she needs to get thoroughly fucked to shut her buzzing mind up.

* * *

 **Sexy times coming soon to a fanfic near yOoOoOou! The song is "Wicked Old Witch" by John Fogerty. You all should check it out. It's catchy and I've listened to it three times today ;)**

 **(The tracking spell: I pray to you Hecate, Queen Mother of Witches. One of your children has fallen down a dark path. Where is she, oh Mother, so that I may stop her from raising the demon Samhain and unleashing destruction upon this world? Where is she, oh Hecate, Queen Mother of Witches?** **Enough!)**


	6. Pour Some Sugar on Me

_"You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little. Tease a little more."_

The bartender slides a glass across the wood at Bella, who takes it with furrowed brows.

"I didn't order this."

"That guy down the bar covered it," the man answers. "Haven't you noticed? Been watching you all night."

Bella raises her eyebrows and regards the drink in her hand. Is it spiked? Is she about to get roofied and then raped? She takes a chance and looks at the man down the bar. Her jaw drops. He looks almost exactly like Jim Morrison. He smiles at her and runs his fingers through his thick curly hair. Bella returns his grin with one of her own. It's a carefully planned smile of seduction, one she has perfected over the years. Running a hand up her leg, she pushes her dress higher up her thighs and gestures to him playfully. Jim Morrison's eyes widen a bit, not expecting a reaction from her like this. But all Bella wants to do is get drunk then go home with a good-looking guy and Jim Morrison certainly fits the bill.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Bella takes a huge swallow of the drink and discovers that it's a Sex on the Beach, one of her favorites. She turns to Jim Morrison again, catching his gaze. Bella slowly curls her lips around the straw and sucks deeply. She knows she has him (hook, line, and sinker) when he stands up and begins making his way down to her.

"Sex on the Beach, huh? That's your drink of choice?"

Bella twirls herself around on her bar stool to see who has the gall to murmur directly in her ear. It's not Jim Morrison. It's a smirking Dean Winchester, holding a glass of whiskey and regarding her with seductive eyes as if she's going to hook up with him. Yeah, right. Try some other woman, you hunting asshole.

"Go away," Bella says. "I'm picking up a guy."

"Who?"

"The one walking towards me, you moron."

"Him?" Dean chuckles. "He's way out of your league, sweetheart."

"Oh real nice, you asshat," Bella snaps, rolling her perfectly lined eyes.

"Did- did you just call me an asshat?"

She ignores Dean as Jim Morrison finally sidles up to her. He grins at Bella and taking her cue, ignores Dean as well. Dean looks mildly indignant.

"Hi," Jim says shyly.

"Hello yourself," replies Bella. "Thanks for the drink."

"No problem. A girl like you shouldn't be alone."

"She ain't alone, dude," Dean interjects.

"Just ignore him, he's not even worth it," Bella says. "I'm Bella."

"I'm Mark," the guy says.

"It's nice to meet you, Mark," she answers. "You know, I couldn't help noticing but you look exactly like Jim Morrison did in 1967."

Mark looks confused. "Uh, who?"

Dean snorts.

Bella's smile fades. Is this guy serious? He looks older than she does and he doesn't know who the Lizard King himself is? Mr. Mojo Risin'? (And Bella's personal favorite) Dionysus?

"Jim Morrison," she elaborates clearly. "Front man for The Doors?"

Mark scratches his head. "I'm not sure who that is. I'm sorry?"

"L.A Woman?" Mark shakes his head, and Bella tries again. "Touch Me?" What about "Roadhouse Blues?" He shrugs, and Bella raises her eyebrows. "Motherfucking "Light My Fire?'"

"Uh, no. I have no idea what that is."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Sorry," Mark says again.

"No, forget it," she says. "Come sit next to me, and I'll buy you a drink and tell you all about The Doors, Mark."

"Sure."

Mark moves to sit down, but Dean blocks him with an arm out. It's almost funny how much bigger Dean is. Mark looks to be pretty muscular, but he has nothing on Dean Winchester and his giant biceps.

"Excuse me," says Mark. "I was about to sit here."

"Look, man," Dean says. "Why don't you take this five and go buy yourself some real music on that jukebox over there?"

"Uh, Bella?"

Bella glares at Dean. "Mark is going to sit here. Move your ass."

"Mark, listen. Bella is my girlfriend. We're in a fight. Will you let us talk this out?" Dean asks casually.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, man. Yeah, go ahead," Mark says nervously before walking away.

"Are you kidding me, Winchester?" Bella hisses at Dean.

With a cocky grin, Dean slides onto the stool next to her. Bella snorts in disbelief.

"No, please. Why don't you take a seat?"

"C'mon Rossi, consider what I did a favor. I mean, a guy who doesn't know who Jim Morrison is? He's not somebody you need in your life."

"I wasn't going to marry him, for Peter's sake! I was going to sleep with him. There's a fucking difference."

Dean quirks an eyebrow. "Who's Peter?"

Bella pauses. "Saint Peter. Is-is that the wrong phrase?"

"It's Pete's sake."

She wrinkles her nose. "It's the same damn thing."

"No, it's not."

"Christ, can you fuck off?" she rolls her eyes. "Testa di cazzo."

Sometimes Bella forgets English sayings, and when she's drunk, the seemingly automatic Italian to English dictionary gets even more jumbled up in her head. Bella takes another swallow of her drink, determinedly not looking at Dean Winchester and his sinfully gorgeous face.

"What did you just say?"

"I called you an asshole, I think. You know," Bella drains the rest of her drink, "You really should invest in an Italian to English dictionary if you're planning to annoy me this much."

"Want another one?" Dean asks, tapping his empty whiskey on the table.

"I can buy it."

"No, let me," says Dean way too quickly.

Bella snorts. "Okay."

Dean flags down the bartender and points at the two empty glasses. The bartender nods and begins making their drinks.

"You drink like F. Scott Fitz-fucking-Gerald," Bella remarks.

"Oh yeah? Well, you're like Sylvia Plath or somethin'," Dean retorts.

It was just a snappy remark, but all the same, Bella stiffens. If only he knew how much like Sylvia Plath she was. Manic depression is what they call it, and Bella has it. When she first read The Bell Jar, she didn't come out of her room for a week in fear of receiving electroconvulsive therapy. (It probably wasn't the best idea to read it right before a depression episode hit either. But Bella digresses.)

"At least I have a reason!" she says, miffed. "My last family member is dead, and I was the one who killed her!"

"She was tryin' to destroy the world."

Bella groans and takes a sip of her new Sex on the Beach.

"She was my biological family, Winchester. And she was evil. She killed people. Does that mean that I'm destined to-"

She trails off, feeling her face turned red for the second time. Bella is not going to sit here and have a heart to heart with this man who wants to watch her burn. No matter how damn attractive he is. Or how much he may understand what she's trying too hard not to say because, from all the stories, the Winchesters (especially Dean) are full of-of self-loathing, bundled in denim and flannel shirts.

"Never mind."

"Look, I get it," Dean says. "It sucks, and it hurts like hell, but you just gotta get up and move on. You had no choice. You did what you had to do."

"Really? That's your answer?"

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Something that doesn't sound like you fucking memorized it from a hunter's manual."

"But you are a hunter and hunters kill all kinds of evil sons o' bitches all the time," answers Dean. "Their families get possessed, and they have to put them down. Their kids become monsters, and they have to kill them. You aren't the only one with problems. You have to just fuckin' get over it."

"Wow," Bella grumbles. "Fucking wow, dude. You suck."

Dean works his jaw in anger. "You know what your problem is?"

"Oh, this ought to be good. Do tell," Bella says, placing her chin in her hands and blinking at him, pretending to be enthralled.

"You think you are so much better than everyone because you're a witch, or whatever. But why don't you try bein' a real hunter for ten minutes instead of actin' like you're goin' through some stupid teenage rebellion."

Bella almost gaps at him. The fucking nerve of this guy! She wants to slap him, but thinks better of it and just rolls her eyes. Bella sets her glass on the bar, wanting nothing more than to throw it at Dean Winchester's smug (and handsome) freckled face. God knows he deserves it. Picking up her coat, Bella flips him the bird and stomps away from the stupid hunter. Of course, he's right on her heels and grabs her arm when they're outside.

"The truth too hard for you to swallow?"

Bella rounds on him.

"You want to know your problem?"

"This outta be good," Dean jokes.

"You think you are some hero and deserve praise and treated like a god or some shit. But you're just this stupid, chauvinistic, close-minded asshole who kills things he deems different and unworthy of living. You're not a hero. You're a coward. You sold your soul to a brother who didn't even try to save you from Hell all because you can't stand to be alone! You know you're not worth anything, but Sam looks at you like you're worth everything every time you save him. You run around acting all high and mighty and bad ass because you have a little brother who kisses the ground you walk on!"

The rage simmering in her blood begins to fuel Bella's magic. Her fingers inadvertently twitch as she glares up at Dean.

"Fuck you!" Dean grunts angrily.

"How was Hell, by the way, Winchester?" Bella taunts. "I heard you spent thirty years on the rack before you broke. You're weak, you know. Remember when you tortured souls? All their blood is on your hands. How does that make you feel to know that?"

"Shut up!" he growls, striding forward towards her.

"Make me."

It's a quiet little remark, yet filled with so much meaning. Bella doesn't realize how soft her voice has gotten until the words have left her mouth. Dean's eyes darken, and he slams his hands on either side of her head, trapping her between his body and the brick building behind her. Bella glances down at the lips that are now only an inch away. It's the quickest glance known to man. Still, Dean notices and his mouth curves up into a smirk. Damn that smile; he is a walking sin. Bella narrows her eyes and fists his flannel shirt in her hands. She pulls him to her and kisses him fiercely. Dean is startled, but it takes him only a moment before he's responding enthusiastically. As he already has her pressed up against a wall, Dean moves his hands to Bella's hair and unclips it from the bun, letting the curls spill down her back. Then Bella remembers that she's supposed to hate him, and with a bit of strength, manages to spin them around until she's the one holding Dean to the wall.

"What are you doin?" Dean asks, his voice husky.

Bella quirks an eyebrow. "Um, planning to take off your pants?"

"H-here?" Dean stammers.

"No," Bella backpedals. "Not here. Where to?"

"Um, my car is right there."

Without so much as a word, Bella grabs Dean up into a kiss again, and he tucks his arms under her butt, lacing his fingers together. Bella manages to jump gracefully in her heels and wrap her legs around his waist. With those three glasses of whiskey seemingly still burning in him, Dean wobbles over to his car and pulls open the door to the backseat. He sets Bella on her feet and with a playful shimmer in her eye, she lifts her leg and kicks him lightly into the car. He looks up at her in drunken awe.

"Shit, you're strong."

Bella shrugs, but her face flushes at the compliment.

"After I moved here, my hunter dad made me take tae kwon do. I've never learned how to use guns very well, so he told me I should learn some martial art."

"That's awesome."

Bella's fingers move to Dean's belt, and she struggles with undoing it only for a moment before sliding them, along with his boxers, down his legs. She leaves Dean's boots on, and his pants just end up stuck around his ankles.

"C'mere," Dean says gruffly. "Wanna kiss you again."

Ignoring him, Bella shakes her head the tiniest amount and turns her attention to the thing between his legs. She had a nagging feeling that Dean was well-endowed in that area, based on, well, his bulge (not that Bella looked there). But as she gets a good eyeful, she's almost singing. He's thick (and freckly score one point for her). There's no other word to describe it. So thick that Bella can see it swell under her stare. Dean clears his throat to try to get her attention, but Bella shushes him. She runs a nail delicately over him, watching with amusement as Dean clenches his fists.

"Sweetheart, c'mon please," he whines.

"Hmm," Bella thinks out loud, her fingers still touching him lightly. "What to do, what to do?"

"You're not playin' fair here, woman."

"No?"

Dean scoffs a little weakly. "No."

"Just ask me nicely, and I'll do it."

Dean shakes his head obstinately, unwilling to give in. Bella leans down and kisses him deeply, smoothing her hand through his hair. He traces her lips with his tongue, and when she opens her mouth, Dean tugs her bottom lip with his teeth. Hard. Breaking away from his kisses, Bella grins when she notices Dean eagerly chasing her lips with his.

"Mmm," Bella hums in desire. "You're a good kisser."

"I can do a lot more than that," Dean replies, a challenging spark in his eye.

"Can you?"

Dean nods.

"Lotso women say that I've got a perfect face for sittin' on."

That makes Bella crack a grin.

"You're too cocksure for your own good."

"I am sure about my cock."

This time, Bella laughs. "That's not really what that means."

"What's it mean then?"

"Egotistical," she explains, kissing him again. "Conceited, arrogant."

Bella presses a kiss to Dean's jaw.

"You," she finishes.

"I am not," Dean says crossly.

"You bleed cockiness."

Bella trails her lips across his throat and nips at his ear.

"If you were a cologne, you'd be Axe," she teases.

Her hands slide under his shirt, and she pushes it up. Bella mouths at his chest and Dean's back arches slightly as her tongue dances over his nipple.

"If you were an actor, you'd be Jude Law."

Bella is finally hovering over where Dean has wanted her to be for the past ten minutes. She gives him a wicked grin as he bucks his hips up towards her mouth.

"If you were a fictional character, you'd be Gregory House," says Bella.

Dean growls at her when she stares up at him, unmoving. She's mocking him, and he knows it.

"You're lucky I like him so much," Bella finishes.

She flicks her tongue out and runs it across the top of him. Dean grunts and his hips thrust up again.

"Jesus."

"Nope," Bella says. "Just me, tiger."

"Bella-" he starts.

"What do you want, Dean?"

He gazes up at her with desire. Those sinfully green eyes are blown wide with the promise of sex.

"C'mon, baby," Dean says.

Bella sighs, not ready to give in quite yet. She was the type to like playing with her hookups before she drove them wild. And she would be driving Dean wild tonight, one way or another.

"Beg," she says.

Dean quickly scowls at her.

"I do not beg."

"Okay," Bella shrugs. "I'll leave then."

"Seriously?"

Dean sounds very skeptical, but Bella is not even remotely joking around. She climbs off of him and fixes her hair.

"You don't want to play; you don't get the lay, Winchester."

She immediately grimaces as soon as the words leave her throat. God, that was bad, Rossi. Book Harry Potter would be so ashamed of you and your shitty comeback.

"So, we're doin' nothin?" says Dean.

"Look, I have a few pictures of James Dean waiting for me back at my motel. I'm good. Don't need you," Bella answers.

She grabs her small purse and slides out of the car. Dean tries to grab Bella's wrist as she passes, but she squirms away.

"W-wait," he says breathlessly. "Y-you can't leave all- fuck, you know!"

"Ah, Dean Winchester, lady killer," Bella says teasingly. "You just got- lady killed. No, wait, that was lame, damn. Aw fuck it, I'm drunk. Bye!"

Not bothering to close the door, Bella walks away from a very confused and naked Dean. She's almost to her car when she hears a weak cry of her name, impertinent and cracked with lust. She decides to wait for a minute, seeing where this could go. Bella's hoping to all the Goddesses that Dean would beg for her. Because what's sexier than a guy like him crying out for a girl like her? Nothing. Bella can think of nothing. She begins counting in her head.

"1...2...3...4...5...6...7."

On her lucky number seven, Dean's resolve must finally break, and she hears him clear across the lot. Obviously, he's not even remotely concerned about being listened to by anyone else that could be around.

"FUCK! BABY PLEASE!" he shouts.

"Got 'em," Bella says, triumphant.

She turns around and makes her way back to Dean. The poor guy looks frustrated as hell. He'd left the door open for any old person to see him flat on his back with his hand wrapped around himself.

"If you can do it yourself, why do you need me?" Bella asks.

"I wasn't-C'mon, sweetheart, please. Wanna touch you, Bells. Please."

"You're begging?"

"I am. Want you, Bells. So much. Please."

Bella raises an eyebrow. "Now, how can a girl deny that?"

"I'm hopin' she won't," Dean says.

"She'd have to be crazy."

Bella climbs back inside the car and shuts the door behind her. She unzips her short black dress and lets it fall off of her frame. As the top of the dress is like a corset, Bella isn't wearing a bra underneath, and Dean's eyes darken as he takes her in. The only light they have is from the streetlights that Dean had parked under, but Bella watches as he licks his lips when he sees her completely naked over him. She pulls the hair tie from her hair, and the purple strands fall her back in mussed curls. Bella moves to take her studded heels off too, but Dean clears his throat abruptly.

"Leave 'em. They make you look bad-ass."

"That's because I am, you know."

She takes one of Dean's hands and places it delicately on her stomach. Her breaths begin to come faster and faster as Dean takes both of his hands and runs them all over her skin slowly like he wants to remember the feel of her. His fingers are rough, and they feel so amazing that Bella can't help the little murmurs of pleasure that erupt from her mouth.

"You're soft," Dean mumbles. "And so fuckin' gorgeous."

"Despite the fact, I'm a witch, and you want to kill me?" Bella says.

"Yeah," he chuckles softly. "Despite that."

His hands drag down Bella's sides, and Dean settles them on her waist. He grabs onto Bella's hips and with expert fingers, starts to massage them. Bella moans and almost collapses on Dean's chest.

"You like that?" Dean asks, eyes huge as he watches Bella squirm.

"Yes. So much."

"Sonofabitch, Bella," he says. "You're sexy as hell."

She laughs a little breathlessly and leans down to kiss Dean again. Her hair falls over them like one of those sex scenes in the stupid Rom-Com movies that Bella's sister Winter likes so much. Sometimes her hair annoys the hell out of her, and she wants to shave it all off. But then people like Dean come around and seem to love tugging on it. So Bella decides to keep it long, if only for a few more days. She rolls her bare hips against him, and they both exhale shakily. Bella sits up a bit and runs her fingers through her hair, flipping it to the side and out of her face. Dean watches with heavily lidded eyes, dark with want.

"Bells-" he starts.

"What can I do?" she murmurs.

"Touch me," Dean says quickly. "Ride me. Whatever you want, baby."

Bella smiles tenderly down at him.

"Yes."

She takes the condom he offers her and helps him put it on. Bella slides herself down until they both let out little groans at the feeling.

"Christ," Bella sighs.

"Ah, call me Dean," he says, smirking.

Bella doesn't even answer; she merely rolls her eyes at him. Dean entwines their fingers together and gazes up at her as she begins to move. Her eyes flutter closed when his other hand goes up to cup her breast. She scratches her nails down Dean's chest, digging them into his freckled skin. Dean growls, and suddenly Bella finds herself flat on her back with Dean hovering over her. She's a little impressed, and she tells him so. Her reward for the compliment is a forceful thrust and a pair of plush lips on her neck.

"Ah, ah," Bella sighs, her eyes closing.

"C'mon Bells," Dean murmurs in her ear. "Wanna see you. Open your eyes."

She does, but it takes a lot of effort on her part. How it went from Bella being in control to Dean taking what he wants is beyond her. She'll have to get him back one of these days, but for now, Bella will just happily go along for the ride. Then Dean lifts one of Bella's legs and she yelps as he can hit that spot that every woman's magazine talks about, but that Bella's other male partners have never been able to find. Her mouth drops open in surprise, and she's graced with a huge Dean Winchester smirk.

"Right there, huh?" he teases. "You're so fuckin' pretty."

She moans a little, her mouth still hanging open.

"I've fuckin' dreamed of you. Christ, been drivin' myself crazy, wantin' to touch you. Never knew it'd be as good as this."

She moans again at his words, and Dean slides a hand up her neck, cupping her jaw.

"More," Bella whines.

She's not entirely sure of what she wants. But Dean, who admittedly seems to be a sex god, (a la Rudolph Valentino) knows what she means.

"You like it when I talk?" he says with a small grin.

She nods, little noises sounding in her throat.

"You're so fuckin' perfect. The minute I saw you- fuck. So cute. You're so beautiful. And all for me."

"Dean," she sighs.

He tangles one hand in her hair and another set of fingers edge downwards and Bella whines when they hit her body. She arches her back, vibrating with desire.

"'S okay," Dean hums. "I gotcha, Bells."

"Dean," she whispers. "I think I'm going to-to-"

Bella wraps her hands tightly around Dean's neck and tugs him down for a kiss, crying out her pleasure in his mouth. She's shaking so much that her head knocks into Dean's chin. Liquid fire races through her blood and Bella thinks she blacks out for a few seconds. She barely hears Dean's quiet grunt of her own name, she's so high, floating on little, puffy white clouds of desire. Finally (sadly) the fire in her veins settles down, and Bella opens her eyes again. She's still trying to control her breathing and has the strangest urge to laugh like a maniac. Instead, she looks up at Dean, who gives her another smirk.

"There's my girl. You okay? You good?"

"We steamed the windows up," she quips.

Dean beams. "That's how you can tell it was great sex."

Bella grins too and reaches her hand up to the rear window of Dean's Impala. She draws a smiley face on the foggy glass and to her delight, Dean adds a pair of glasses and a handlebar mustache.

"Tic tac toe," Bella says, drawing the board. "You first, kid."

Dean agrees, drawing an 'O' right next to Bella's first 'X.' She adds a second 'X' above her first one, but he blocks her win on the bottom with a second 'O.' Bella pouts and Dean kind of laughs, teasing her. Biting her lip in thought, Bella then draws an 'X' in the bottom left corner. Dean blocks her yet again in the upper right corner. She then goes and blocks his right column win with a smug expression. Dean groans playfully, nuzzling his nose against Bella's neck and the game quickly ends as they kiss again.

"You want to know how I know that it was good sex?" Bella says.

"How?"

"You made me come. No guy's ever done that before."

Dean's shoulders stiffen, and he slowly looks up from Bella's breasts in surprise.

"You're fuckin' with me?"

"I so wish I was."

"Got a lot of time to make up for," Dean muses, flicking Bella's nipples. "Bet I can do it again. And again. And again. And again."

Bella pokes a finger into his cheek.

"I dare you then."

* * *

 **I hope I did the sexy bits okay. And hopefully not too porn-like. But Bella likes it when Dean talks, so... eh.**

 **Thanks for reading! (This chapter is brought to you by "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard!)**


	7. You Shook Me All Night Long

**I was on a Disney kick when I wrote this. There's at least three references in this chapter? I regret nothing.**

* * *

 _"Made a meal outta me. And came back for more."_

 _ **November 2, 2008**_

The room is so bright, and Bella curses the moron who forgot to close the curtains the night before. She rolls onto her stomach and buries her face in the musty pillow, hiding from the sunlight. Her throat hurts, and her head feels like a group of very tiny people is headbanging to Dead Kennedys in her skull.

"Cosa è successo la notte scorsa?" Bella mutters to herself.

With her eyes still closed, she tugs the sheets off of her sweaty body and moves to get out of the motel bed. However, Bella has miscalculated her position on the bed and tumbles gracelessly onto the floor.

"Ow," she whines.

Bella sits up and inspects herself. She's naked; clearly, because she tends to sleep as such. But this motel room is not the same one she bought out for the week. Where is she? Where is Jim Morrison? And why is this room so fucking ugly? It has some 70's porn theme going on. Seriously, who decorated it? Bella is positive that this is not the room that she has been sleeping in for the past few days. She'd probably be more concerned if the shower across the room weren't calling to her.

"Fuck it."

She stands on wobbly legs and makes her way into the bathroom, starting the water. She leans over the counter and tries to wipe the day old makeup forming a crust under her eyes. She looks irrefutably fucked out, so she had had to go home with someone last night. Gesù Cristo, how drunk was she last night that she can't even fucking remember who she went home with? And where is that person? Accepting her fate that maybe she is about to be a part of a Saw film (hopefully the second one, as that was her favorite), Bella pushes open the door and steps under the warm spray of motel water. It feels so delicious on her clammy skin, and she shivers in delight. Finding one of those small bottles of shampoo and squeezing some into her palm, Bella starts scrubbing the hell out of her greasy hair. So intent on getting clean she is, that she misses the thump of the front door and the footsteps wandering into the bathroom. But she certainly feels it when a pair of hands grabs onto her hips. She yelps loudly, grabbing the hands and twisting a few fingers until a deep voice grunts in pain.

"Jesus Christ, let go!"

Bella looks at the guy and immediately feels her face flush.

"You've got to be kidding me. Porca miseria. It's you. Of course, it's you."

Dean fucking Winchester. Of course. Just her luck, huh?

"Ouch," Dean says.

"I'm going to get out of the shower and pretend that you are not standing in here with me. And we are both naked."

"Ain't nothing I haven't seen before, you know," he replies with a smirk.

"That's a double negative," answers Bella.

She leans under the stream of water, trying to rinse the soap from her hair. She is trying her damnedest not to stare at Dean and his killer body. Clearly, Dean is not as shy because Bella can feel his eyes burning two holes into her breasts.

"Would you quit staring at me?" she snaps. "And what the fuck are you smirking at?"

"Ah," Dean croons. "You told me that no guy's ever made you come before I did!"

Bella rolls her eyes. "Okay, Memo to me, memo to me. Drunk Bella needs to keep her damn mouth shut."

"I was good, wasn't I? So damn good. Remind me again, how many times I made you come last night?" Dean says, pretending to think hard and tapping on his chin.

"Look, I don't ca-"

"Five times."

Bella feels her jaw fall open and she gazes up at Dean, dumbfounded. Is he serious? Five times? Dean nods at her smugly, as though he knows what she's thinking. She hates the cocky, I'm-so-damn-awesome expression on his too-perfect face. It's sickening. He's sickening, and Bella scowls.

"You want a medal or something, Winchester?"

"I think my prize should be havin' you ride my face, what do you think?"

"Look, fine, maybe when I bang guys, they don't get me off. But girls are a whole other story. So don't think you're so damn special, all right?"

"Do people still say bang?" Dean asks, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. Right now. And never look back. Ever."

She moves to get out of the shower, and Dean decides to block her way. Bella huffs angrily, determined to not. Stare. At. his. Penis, goddammit!

"Aren't you gonna ask how you got here?" he wonders.

"Trust me; I've ended up in worse situations," Bella pauses. "Can't think of any right now, but, eh."

"So, let's see," Dean starts his story and she groans loudly. "After I rocked your world in the backseat, I drove us back here-"

"You drove here? As drunk as you were?" she interjects.

"Hey, I got us here in one piece, didn't I?"

"Us maybe. But, say, if I were to retrace your path, would I find the remains of mailboxes, dented metal garbage cans, and maybe a squished cat or two?"

"I think you underestimate my ability to drive while intoxicated," Dean says.

"Clearly."

"Anyway, as soon as we made it back here, I kicked Sammy out for the night, made you scream my name a few more times, then we fell asleep. You know, you're louder than I thought you'd be. The neighbors were bangin' on the wall."

Bella scoffs. "They were not."

"Oh, they were, sweetheart. They were tellin' you to keep it down as I made you scream my name over and over and- oomf!"

Dean glares at Bella, who drops the washcloth that she has just hit his cheek with to the ground, looking innocent.

"What?" she says, holding her hands out. "Don't look at me; I didn't do anything. Someone's throwing stuff."

It's his turn to glare as he leans down to grab the washcloth again. Dean holds it out to Bella, who waves him off.

"I'm done."

Again, Bella moves to get out of the shower, but Dean grabs her wrist and tugs her flush against him. And he's just there and ready. Of course. Are the Goddesses of luck against her? Or are they on her side? Bella has yet to figure it out. Dean gazes down at her, his gorgeous eyes sparkling, waiting.

"Sammy will be gone for awhile."

"Shower banging is dangerous, you know."

Bella curses her breathy voice. She sounds like some Italian version of a Southern belle. All she needs now are poofy white petticoats and a parasol. Damn it.

"Who said anythin' about bangin'?" Dean murmurs, running a finger down Bella's cheek, between her breasts, and stopping his hand right above her belly button. You know, you haven't sat on my face yet, kitten."

"Kitten?"

"Kitten. Because you purr when you come," Dean's voice is dropping lower with each word, oozing sex. "Like a little kitten. My sexy little kitten."

Bella coughs. "I need to go."

"I'll make it good for you," he coaxes, trailing his nose down her ear. "I can make you feel so fuckin' good... if you'd let me."

"Haven't you already?"

Dean pauses, regarding Bella with his eyes narrowed. She can practically see the cogs turning in his head.

"You've never had a guy go down on you before, have you?"

Bella feels her cheeks redden. "Not unless I gave him a blowjob first. And even then, it only lasted for a few minutes."

"That's fuckin' awful. They don't deserve you, Bells."

"No?"

Dean shakes his head. "Fuck no. Can I-I mean, do you want me to?"

Bella shuffles her bare feet on the cold tile of the shower. She's trying not to look at Dean, feeling humiliated and exposed. Yes, Bella has had a lot of sex. But the majority of it has sucked.

"Only if you want to," she finally replies.

"Jesus Christ, you have no idea how much," Dean mutters, more to himself than her.

He knocks Bella's knees out from under her and sweeps her up in his arms, bridal style. Dean carries her out of the shower and sets her down on one of the beds. There is already a towel spread out, as though he'd known she'd give in.

"Just relax," Dean says, drying himself off. "I'm awesome at this."

Bella manages an eye roll. "That's what all the boys say."

"Exactly."

"What?" she asks.

"Boys," grins Dean. "You sleep with boys."

"And?"

"I'm a grown man."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is," Dean slides his hands up Bella's legs, parting them. "I know what I'm doin'."

Bella feels her eyes widen and a shiver runs down her spine. This isn't happening. Dean Winchester is too good to be true.

"Now, usually my going rate is six to two," he says conversationally. "But especially for you, I'll make it seven to none. That sound okay, baby?"

"Seven what?"

Dean grins wickedly. "Orgasms."

"I've already had five though."

"That was yesterday. 'S a new day, Bells."

Bella manages a small 'oh, ' and that's it. Dean kneels in front of her, staring at her body and she has the sudden urge to cover herself with her hands. Bella's fingers even twitch, intent on shielding her skin from his dark, hungry eyes. Dean catches her fingers in his as soon as she moves them. Bella's face reddens. She's never had anyone look at her this intensely. It's very unnerving.

"Why are you doin' that?" Dean asks.

"Because you're staring at me!"

Bella moans in humiliation, covering her face with her hands. Drunken sex was one thing, but he wants to burn her alive! What in the fuck is happening? And why is Dean Winchester of all people the one wanting to have her this way?

Dean scoffs a little softly. "What, I can't look at you?"

"Okay, but you don't have to stare at my fica like you're looking into the Delaware Aqueduct!"

"Fica?" his forehead wrinkles. "What's that mean?"

"Seriously? What the hell do you think?"

"Why are you actin' like such a prude?"

Dean sounds like he's getting annoyed with her. When Bella's embarrassed, she tends to be unable to shut up, usually making the situation way worse.

"This is such a fucking weird situation! I mean, fuck, you want me dead," she cries. "And you don't have to play the character of a Playboy with me. I get it; you're a genius at sex-"

"That's not why-"

"-And you don't have to prove it by doing something that no guy likes to do-"

"What? Hold on-"

"-I mean, you made me come five times, even though you were wasted. It's okay, and I don't expect you to-"

Bella lets out a small cry in surprise as Dean gives her a little lick. He moves back, raising an eyebrow at her in question.

"W-why did y-you do that?"

"You wouldn't stop talkin'. Look, would you believe me if I told you that I get off on doin' this?"

She shakes her head.

"No. Maybe I should just go?"

"C'mon, what do I hafta say to convince you?"

"I just uh," Bella sighs, flopping back down on the bed. "I'm uncomfortable, okay?"

She covers her eyes with her arm. There's a bit of silence, and Dean soothes her with gentle fingertips running over her bare feet. For some reason, it makes Bella feel a hundred times better. But Goddesses, why is she so uncomfortable?

"You know I looked you up on the internet," Dean begins.

"Why?"

"To see if you got arrested for inciting a new wave of satanic panic or somethin'. But what I found was much more interestin'."

Bella freezes. "Oh Christ, you didn't."

"I did," he grins a lopsided grin. "What do you do there?"

"Bartend, mostly. Sometimes I- you know."

"You're a stripper then."

"Exotic dancer is the appropriate term."

"I can see it," Dean muses, moving to sit by Bella on the bed. "Some of the moves you did last night pretty much rested my case."

"My routines are a little different. The whole place is different. Upscale, not seedy. Run entirely by women. Some girls give a little extra fun to their male customers, you know, lap dances and a bit of hand jobbing, but that isn't me. I just like to dance."

"Naked?"

"Not usually, no. I dance to hard rock. Or if there's a more creative and less drunk crowd, they'll let me do a ballet routine. Combining toe shoes with pole dancing is what it is."

"If you can do that, why don't you get a job dancin' regularly?"

"Do you know how fucking cutthroat it is to get any work dancing for a company? And I'm not that good," Bella shakes her head. "Anyway, I love it too much to quit."

Dean flops down, leaning on his side, so he's looking at Bella. She tilts her head and regards him thoughtfully, gracing him with a small smile. Her breath hitches when he hovers over her and presses a kiss to her throat. Neck kisses are her fucking weakness. Kiss Bella's neck and she'd probably kill a guy for you. Dean suckles gently on her skin, right in the notch that connects her throat to her collarbones, and Bella moans lightly, grabbing his hair and holding his face against her. Dean rumbles in response, moving his lips down her neck, leaving little damp spots in his wake.

"Mmm," Bella purrs.

She feels the smile against her throat.

"My kitten likes that, eh?"

Bella manages another eye roll, but Dean doesn't see it, as his attention is already on her collarbones. He nuzzles his face into her, seeming to inhale. Satisfied with whatever he finds, Dean turns his attention to her breasts, still warm and slightly damp from the shower. He takes a nipple in his mouth, coaxing soft noises from Bella's lips. She squirms underneath him, clawing at his shoulders, vibrating all the while.

"Tell me about your tattoos," Dean says. "What's this one about?"

He traces a finger along her side, tracing the spiraling words that are written on her skin.

"Sei bella non importa che dicono," Bella answers, still shaky. "It means you're beautiful, no matter what they say. My dad used to tell me that when I was little. I didn't have many friends."

"No?"

"No," she lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "I was a freak."

Dean chuckles. "Hey, so was I. Instead of football, I threw knives."

"Lots of girls wanted to be Sophia Loren. I wanted to be Ophelia."

"Like from Hamlet?"

Bella smiles to herself. "Mhm. Like from Hamlet."

"How old were you?"

"My mamma was really into literature, and she started reading Shakespeare to me when I was three. Hamlet happened when I was seven. But I didn't want to be Ophelia until I was eleven."

"But why did you want to be the girl who drowned?" Dean asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Don't know. It's a beautiful way to die, don't you think?" says Bella.

"Not really, Bells. You struggle until the water gets into your lungs and you black out."

"Oh," Bella shrugs. "I've always thought it was. You just sink and wait."

"That's fucked up," he remarks.

Bella shoves Dean's shoulder.

"Screw you."

But she doesn't say it angrily. Yeah, Dean's right. It is fucked up. But that's just her. If Bella had a choice of how she would die, she would choose to drown over every other option. There's just something poetic about having the sea as one's final resting place. God, she's such a cliche though. One of those manic pixie dream girls probably.

Dean then takes her left hand in his and examines the two tattoos there. He traces the outline of a heart that sits at the bottom of her pinky finger.

"Tell me about this one."

"It's a family tattoo. My adopted family, I mean. Whenever one of us turns eighteen, we get a heart put somewhere on our left hand."

"Awesome," says Dean. "And this one?"

Bella glances at her wrist. "We're all mad here? It's what the Cheshire Cat says to Alice."

"Ah. I've never seen that movie."

"Seriously? Winchester, you have no idea what you're missing. It's the best Disney movie out there! And the books- uh- don't even get me started. I was probably fifteen when I memorized the Jabberwocky. Have you heard it? It goes 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogroves and the mome raths outgrabe. 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird and shun the-"

"Whoa, whoa," Dean gives her a grin. "Slow down."

"Sorry."

"Are you okay, Bells? You look a little wild."

"I think I'm a bit up today," she answers, not looking at him.

"Up?" Dean repeats.

"Mmm, yeah. They- err- tell me that I have bipolar disorder."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Bella smacks her lips.

"I think huntin' makes everyone a little crazy. We're all mad here, right?" Dean says.

Bella looks at him, searching his eyes for dread. Most guys run after they hear a girl they've just banged is a nutter. Most girls think it's contagious. A lot of the people she's slept with have fled after they saw Bella either unable to get out of bed, seeing her slam down vodka like it was water (self-medicate) or watching her get high for the fifth time that week to quell her racing thoughts. There is no visible fear or even disgust in those viridian eyes of Dean's, and Bella feels perplexed. She realizes it's been ten seconds and he's blinking at her expectantly. He's waiting for Bella to say something, she notices.

"And now you know why I have that tattoo."

"And that lace thing around your thigh," Dean whistles, waggling his eyebrows. "Sexiest tat I've ever seen."

"I like to have a mix of fun, quirky, and meaningful ink on my body," Bella lifts her hair. "This one is quirky and consequential."

"An elephant?"

"Yep. It was my mamma's favorite animal. And I'm sure you noticed the cat face?"

She holds up her middle finger, and Dean grins.

"Very intimidatin'."

"It is!" Bella says, flipping him off again.

"Ooh, I think my bunny slippers just ran for cover," teases Dean.

She narrows her eyes. "Are we getting into a Disney quote war?"

"You like Disney?"

"Pocahontas and Mulan, yeah. They kick major ass. You?"

"I missed the cutoff for good Disney movies. I was an old guy when the good ones came out."

"Alice was released in the '50's. And Lady and the Tramp isn't bad. Neither is The Aristocats."

"I was more of a Sesame Street kid. Then Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

Bella nods in understanding, sliding down on the bed until she's lying flat on the sheets. Dean follows her lead and moves a little closer to her. She's confused as to why, but then he tugs her into his side. They stay that way for a minute, just curled around each other. Bella shouldn't be doing this, not with him. He wants her dead. Wait, what if he's trying to get her to trust him and when she introduces him to her friends, he burns them all alive? (Would he do that?) Fuck, of course, he would, Rossi. He's a hunter, and they all hate witches, no matter what kind of witch they are. The demonic, friendly ones? Dead. The natural born, friendly ones? Dead. The demonic, evil ones? Double dead. The natural born, evil ones? Dead. Hunters don't give two shits about the things that they kill.

She sits up abruptly. "I need to go."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. I've stayed too long as it is."

"Stayed too long? What's that mean?"

"Exactly what you think it means."

Dean makes a face. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're runnin' away from me."

"Is it that obvious?" says Bella in a small voice.

"Why are you leavin'?"

"Because you want to burn me at the stake."

"That's right," says Dean. "I do. But that doesn't mean you can't stay for a little while."

"Yes, it does!" Bella says sharply. "For all I know, you're trying to get on my good side by giving me multiple orgasms. Then when I'm not looking, you'll shoot me."

"Me? How do I know that that's not what you're plannin'?" replies Dean, narrowing his eyes.

"Because I'm not evil."

"So I'm the evil one here?"

"Pretty much," Bella answers.

"I may be a lot of things, sweetheart, but evil isn't one of 'em," Dean says.

"Yeah? How many things have you killed in your life?" she says.

"How many have you?" he counters.

"Only the ones that deserve it."

"Okay, well, me too."

"But you had no qualms holding a gun to my face before," Bella reminds him.

"I told you I hate witches."

"So any witch you'd kill without a thought?"

Dean shrugs. "Probably."

"Whether or not they give you a reason to?"

"Yep."

"That there?" Bella says, waving her finger. "Is what makes you evil."

"Jesus Christ," Dean hollers. "Would you just fuckin' leave already?"

Bella, who is already dressed and tying her wet hair up in a messy bun, holds her hands out.

"I'm gone."

Without so much as a look back, Bella stalks out of the motel room, slamming the door behind her. The fucking nerve of him! God, why did she sleep with him? She'll never live this down. Think with your upstairs brain one in a while, and you wouldn't get into these situations, Rossi! How many times do you have to have this discussion with yourself? She's too busy yelling at herself to notice the looks of everyone on the sidewalk. Clearly, she's doing the classic walk of shame, and she's drawn the attention of a few giggling yoga moms. One points at her and the whole group begin to titter. Bella just rolls her eyes.

"Do they have nothing better to do with their lives?" she mutters, giving them a fierce glare as she strides confidently past them.

A guy stands a few feet in front of her, tactlessly ogling her bare legs. Bella smiles her slow, seductive smile and sticks two fingers in her mouth, batting her eyelashes. She slides the fingers from her lips, maintaining eye contact. The guy grins. She then drops her pointer finger, so all that's left is her middle finger. The guy scowls as Bella lifts that finger high in the air, flipping him off proudly. Her car finally in her sights, Bella sighs in relief, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of this town and smoke a joint.

She's so done with hunters with green eyes and perfect lips and bowlegs and freckled cocks.

Smettila!

* * *

 ** _(Smettila_ means stop it and _Cosa è successo la notte scorsa_ means what happened last night?)**

 **This chapter is brought to you by "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC. :) And it has been rewritten!**


	8. You're My Best Friend

**So Dean will not be in the next couple chapters. But it will be filled with lovely witchcraft, Bella and her friends, and of course just plain fun!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 _Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had. I've been with you such a long time."_

 _ **November 16, 2008** **(** **Hecate's Night)**_

Trikala is a lovely little city in Thessaly, Greece. Bella and her coven are here celebrating Hecate's Night and eventually, The Day of Hecate at the Crossroads on November 30th. It is natural born tradition to worship their Queen Mother somewhere in her native Greece. The country is quiet this time of year- most tourists are here during the early fall. The hotel that they had booked rooms in is beautiful with a pool, poolside bar, a restaurant, and a spa. It's a little too cold to be outside in the water, so Bella and her girls are going to sit in the sauna and talk. It's been almost six months since they've been all together.

"Hey, you ready?"

Charlotte Johnson (or Lottie, as she goes by) wanders out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her shoulder length hair pinned up in a beautiful bun. Tendrils of light brown curls frame her face, and she's wearing an eye shadow color that Bella would never be able to pull off or even apply correctly. Lottie had gone to school for cosmetology, and her makeup is always flawless. Not to mention her Halloween game is off the charts.

"Yeah, just a second. I can't find my damn sandals," Bella answers, rummaging through her suitcase, "I just saw them too."

"These?" another voice asks.

Annie Maxwell pops up from under her bed, holding a pair of black flip flops in her hand.

"Oh, yes. Thanks, Maxie."

"What were they doing under there?" asks Annie, giving the shoes to Bella.

"Tyler and I were playing before," Bella answers, gesturing to her black pit bull. "She must have stolen them when I wasn't looking. All right, I'm ready. Should we go?"

"Let's," Lottie agrees.

The three girls head out of the room in single file, then wind up walking down the hallway side by side with matching strides. The elevator arrives to take them down a few floors, and they step on, waiting for more people. As soon as the elevator opens its doors again, two more girls rush on, squealing as they see their friends.

"Bella, I love your hair like that!"

"El, I missed you so much!"

"Posey, hey! How's the boyfriend?"

Bubbly voices talk over one another as the elevator makes one last stop before heading to the pool. The last duo of the group squishes themselves in the now-packed elevator, trying to twist themselves around to see everyone. The energy in the small compartment is buzzing over with excitement. Seven best friends are seeing each other for the first time in a long time. But there's also a smothered feeling of loss. Dani, their other coven member who'd died only two months before, is still in their thoughts and memories.

Danielle Simpson was one of those girls who probably could have been famous if she tried hard enough. Charismatic as all hell with a love for fitness and hip hop dancing, Dani was a few years older than the rest of her friends. She was obsessed with aesthetic spells, but never changed her face permanently. Dani just liked to experiment. According to her, she had graduated high school as valedictorian of her class. And if she ever decided to, she would have gone to school to study physics. Dani hated reading and loved math. She didn't understand Bella's love for "that nerdgasm" Harry Potter or Eleanor's obsession with Starbucks. Her favorite food was either honey-glazed steamed carrots and salmon or Cadbury creme eggs, depending on whether or not she was on a diet that day. She was shy around people she didn't know and still, supremely confident. Dani hated horror movies and even couldn't deal with the old Goosebumps episodes from the '90s. Everyone missed her, and the funeral had been filled with tears and way too many memories.

The group arrives finally at the spa, each girl filing out one-by-one. They're still too excited, talking to one another over each other. To an ordinary person, they aren't about to go out and do what looks like regular 'devil' worship. Too cheerful and bright to seem like the wicked witches that hunters are used to killing.

"Luce, I brought that mix CD for you."

"Did you get my letter, Mira?"

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you replied?"

"I was busy."

"-And I found the most amazing dress design. I'll have to show you the sketches I made."

"So I just told him straight out, you're wrong. Order of the Phoenix was an atrocious interpretation of a great fucking book!"

"Wait, wait, hold everything!" Lottie says, holding out her hands. "Posey Jo Alice, what is that on your finger?"

All the talking abruptly ends as the girls stop moving and turn around to face Lottie and Posey Jo Alden. Posey's face is bright red as the rest of her friends crowd around her, trying to look at her hand. There's a gasp from Lucy as everyone realizes that they are staring at a massive diamond ring.

"What."

"The."

"Hell?"

Posey looks at her feet, pleased. "Damien asked me to marry him."

"Congratulations!" Lucy cries cheerfully.

"We better be invited!" jokes Annie.

"Of course you will be. What kind of question even is that, Annie?"

Miranda smiles. "And I hope it's fucking soon. God knows we've been waiting forever!"

"You've been waiting forever? I've been waiting to marry him since we were sixteen!"

"When is the wedding?" Eleanor asks.

"We're thinking sometime in the next two years. Probably around March 2010," Posey replies.

"It's one hell of a rock, Pose," remarks Bella with a laugh.

She agrees. "Isn't it? It was Damien's godmother's ring."

"What are your colors going to be?"

"We were thinking a pumpkin shade, a tangerine, and some sage green. They say those colors are right for spring," Posey answers.

"And a light yellow. What about that?" Lottie muses.

"Oh, good idea. I'll keep that in mind," Posey answers. "And of course you guys are all bridesmaids. My sister's going to be maid-of-honor, and I was hoping that your brother Ryder could be the ring bearer, Bella? Or your brother Max, Lottie? Damien and I have a flower girl in mind, but no ring bearer."

"Max'll want to do it. Especially if your flower girl is cute."

"She's Damien's little cousin, and she's adorable."

Lottie grins. "He's definitely in."

"Great, that's settled. There's so much still to plan. The food, decor, the table placements, the cake, the dresses," Posey sighs. "Weddings are stressful."

"At least you have a long time," Mira points out.

Someone turns on the sauna for the girls, and each takes a seat on one of the wooden benches.

"And think of your poor dad, having to buy it all," adds Lucy teasingly.

"I'm just terrible at planning things. What if I forget something important, like someone to perform the ceremony?"

"We won't let that happen," Lottie reassures. "Make a checklist with subcategories of everything that needs to get done."

"With subcategories, Lott?" Bella repeats. "Come on; it's a wedding, not a fucking business plan."

"Not all of us have a memory that allows us to be able to repeat a nerdy movie verbatim after only watching it once," Mira says.

"Mira, you are a sad, strange little woman," answers Bella. "And you have my pity."

Miranda snorts. "That was a Disney quote. I can't believe you just replied with a Disney quote."

"I have three siblings under the age of ten, Mira. Of course, I'm quoting Disney."

"Fine," Miranda says with a grin. "I'll give you that."

"Bella, one. Miranda, negative seven."

"Wait, why am I in the negative?"

"Did anybody else realize that Lucy and I are staying in room 66 on the sixth floor?" Eleanor intervenes. "Why do we always end up with that room number? Last year, it was Bella and Posey. The year before that, Annie and Dani."

"It's like Jennie's sense of humor or something," Lucy says.

"Remember our first year when we stayed with that family and their pack of goats? And Bella kissed their son in the woods?" Annie adds.

Bella rolls her eyes. "God, don't remind me! I still had braces, and my wire cuts his tongue. There's blood everywhere. On me, on him, and their parents called me the devil's spawn in Greek."

"Gross, I remember that. Didn't they threaten to call a priest for an exorcism?" wonders El.

"Aren't exorcisms banned?" Mira says.

"Yes" Bella, who had grown up in the Roman Catholic Church, explains. "But there's always a few undercover exorcists running around in the name of the pope."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you were a good little Catholic, Bella."

"If by 'good,' you mean having your mom have to drag you to confession because you hadn't been in six months, yeah, I was the best. Then it was hard to be a Catholic once I knew I was a witch descended from a demon."

"Lucifer isn't a demon."

"Of course you would say that, Mira. I was taught that he was."

"Does anyone know how many seals are broken?" says Posey. "I can never get the Ouija board to answer me."

Annie bites her lip. "Last I checked, it was up around thirty-five."

"Mmm, great."

"It is great!" Miranda says. "We'll get to meet the guy who gave us our magic!"

"If you say so, Mir."

"Stuff it, Lucy. You know I'm right."

Lucy raises her eyebrows. "Are you though?"

"I'm with Lucy, Mira. Lucifer's a scary bastard," mutters Bella.

"Yeah, is he coming into your dreams?" says Lucy, looking across the room at Bella.

Bella nods. "He has been. He left a few scratches on my arm the other night."

"That's great! It's like you're channeling him!"

"Mira, no. It's not great. He hurts me."

El hums her agreement. "I had bite marks on my hand last Tuesday. If he's supposed to be on our side, why is he attacking us?"

"Because he wants us to remember him when he visits us in our dreams!" Miranda says excitedly.

"God Mira. Stop it."

"Yes. That's enough."

"He's scary. End of discussion."

"No, he's an excellent-"

"Christ Mira, give it up."

"Everyone, can we not do this right now?" Lottie interrupts, always the voice of reason. "It's Hecate's special day today. Not the devil's, no matter how hard some of us try."

Miranda harrumphs at that but eventually relents, zipping her lips. The room is warming up nicely, and all the girls are in varying degrees of heated dishevelment. Of course, Lottie's hair is still beautiful, and her foundation hasn't budged an inch. Bella takes her towel and wipes the sweat dripping between her breasts. Her hair feels like it's ten feet above her head in a frizzy halo.

"I think I'm all cleaned out," she remarks.

"Um, yes. Me too."

Eleanor wipes the sweat from her forehead. "Yeah, I think I need to jump in the pool now."

"El, it's like fifty degrees outside," Posey says.

"Which is what again?"

"You damn Brit," Annie says fondly. "It's only eleven degrees outside."

"Hey, it's not our fault that you Americans use an entirely different system than the rest of the world," Lottie says, standing from the bench.

"And why is your level of freezing thirty-two degrees?" says Bella. "At least our zero makes sense."

"You Europeans and your metric systems," Posey quips.

"It's easier to understand than yours."

"Ladies, are we going to jump in the pool before we melt into little green puddles or not?"

"Yes, yeah, yeah. Chill out, El."

"Literally."

The girls all giggle. Bella adjusts her towel and follows her friends out of the sauna. A gust of chilly air meets them as they all step outside and then each of them is scrambling to the pool. Eleanor is the first to jump in, and she bobs back up immediately with a shiver. Bella and Lottie grab hands, and they jump in together, Lottie jumping a bit sooner than Bella. Bella ends up doing a graceless face plant into the water and comes back up, spluttering. Her girls are giggling at her and Bella feels her face turning pink.

"It wasn't that funny," she mumbles, sending a spray of water over Lucy, who's the closest.

"Geez, that's freezing, Bella!"

Retaliating, Lucy swims underneath Bella and with a quick movement, tugs her under. Bella lets out a little yelp before she's swallowed whole by the water. She floats back up slowly and notices most everyone has gotten out of the pool already.

"Where are you going?" she says.

Bella does a backward somersault, missing the muttered "show off" said fondly by Annie.

"Jennie's going to be here soon, and we look like drowned rats," Mira reminds Bella.

Posey grins. "Well, except for Lottie."

"True," Eleanor says, scrubbing at her wet hair with a clean towel.

Lottie blushes at the compliment.

"It's just hair."

"Hair that never moves an inch," Bella says, climbing finally back onto dry land.

She wraps a new towel around herself and slips on her shoes. As she starts to follow the rest of her friends, Annie sidles in next to her and hooks their arms together. Bella smiles and Annie lays her head on her friend's shoulder.

"I have a few new dresses I'd think you like. I designed them with you in mind."

"Oh? What do they look like?"

"One of 'em is going to look cool. I took a vintage Ramones t-shirt and sewed the logo up onto a dress. When it's done, it'll look pretty awesome. Girly and tough. And another one is short, but you could wear it with those tights that look like garters," Annie explains.

"That sounds so kickass. Christ, I wish I was that creative," says Bella.

"You are. Just not in a sewing way. I mean, remember that pillow you tried to make for Winter?"

"Hell, don't remind me."

Called 'Christmas of the Hellish Pillow' by Annie, Bella had been over at her best friend's house a few weeks before Christmas back in 2005. Annie had been sewing some madly creative thing for her mother, and Bella, intrigued by how easy it seemed, decided to make a pillow for her little sister as a Christmas gift. Turns out, threading a sewing machine is a lot harder than it looks and one needs to be careful of the needle unless they want to lose their entire fingernail. Let's just say Bella bought Winter a pillow that year.

Annie shrugs. "It was a good try."

"No, it wasn't Annie. Don't be nice for my benefit."

"All right. It sucked."

"Thank you. Glad I have a friend who won't ever bullshit me," Bella adjusts her towel, "Anyway, how's the thing with Crystal going?"

"You mean our relationship? Izzy, it's okay to say the word," says Annie knowingly.

Bella rolls her eyes. "I know what you're insinuating, and I'm not going to respond."

"I'm insinuating that-"

"Yeah, I got it."

"-I worry about you. You can't-"

"Okay, thank you."

"-keep having mindless sex with every person you meet. That thing with Cara happened six years ago-"

"All right good, we're bringing that up."

"-and you can't be freaked out about your powers anymore. Fall in love, Bella. Try it once; you won't regret it."

Bella grumbles. "Are you done now?"

"Yes," Annie says. "But I stand by everything I just told you. Hate me if you want, but you know I'm right."

The girls turn down their hallway and find their room again. Lottie's already in there, digging through her bag and Bella sits down on a chair with a heavy sigh. Annie goes into the bathroom and closes the door. Bella hears the shower start up and she lets out a groan. Lottie turns to her with a look of concern.

"You're thinking too hard," she states. "All I hear is CaraCaraCaraCara."

Bella sighs again, nodding.

"Annie brought her up. She thinks my fucking around is unethical."

"She means well. She worries. And I do too."

"Please don't start, Lottie. I know it isn't good to do what I do. I just- I'm a fuck up. Hell, my first relationship was with an American guy! He was fifteen, and I was eleven! I look back on that and think it's just wrong. But back then? He was so cute, and he thought I was pretty, and he didn't speak Italian, and he kissed me for the first time underwater, and I felt content and clean for the first time! And then-"

"-you met his sister, and it all went to hell," Lottie says. "I remember the story."

"Small Roman Catholic towns don't take very well to questioning little girls," Bella mutters.

Lottie makes a small noise that sounds almost like a worrying tsk.

"Come here. Let me do your hair."

"All right."

Bella sits on the floor in front of Lottie who arms herself with a brush, a few million bobby pins, and a bunch of scrunchies. Bella's hair could snap through even the strongest hair band, and her curls ate bobby pins. She was always finding them stuck in her hair or on the floor of her apartment. She winces when Lottie's brush catches a snarl. Lottie just hums, gently working a comb through it.

"I like this lavender color," remarks Lottie.

"Oh, thanks. I had to break away from neon colors for a little while."

"Your hair is a little screwed up. Have you been doing that deep conditioning treatment I told you about?" Lottie says.

"Yeah."

"I have another one you should try instead then. Your hair is cracking or something. All this dye isn't good for it. Why don't you just 'Magik' your hair purple?"

Bella shrugs. "Not sure. I like dyeing it. I never know exactly how it's going to come out and when it comes out right, I'm so proud. If I just cast a spell to change it, it wouldn't feel as worthwhile, I guess."

"Well, let me at it with a pair of scissors so I can get rid of all these split ends, okay?"

"Okay. Deal."

Lottie lets out a heavy sigh, and Bella can sense the mood shift in the span of two seconds. She picks up an extra hair tie and wraps it around her pointer finger, watching as the tip of it turns red.

"Thinking about Dani?" says Bella carefully because she doesn't want to talk about this.

"Yeah," Lottie murmurs, "I just can't believe they found her."

Bella chews her lip. "Me neither."

Her finger is purple now, and Bella watches it with slight fascination, hoping Lottie would get the hint and stop talking about Dani. Before Bella can even think, Lottie grabs her hand and rips off the hair tie. The feeling rushes back into Bella's fingertip right away, and she has that strange feeling that she sometimes gets after a crashed episode. A sense of almost missing the numbness.

"I hate when you do that," says Lottie.

Bella says nothing.

"It wasn't your fault, you know. You have no control over the spell. You can't control where they end up."

Bella hums. "I just feel like there was something else I could have done."

"You can't save everyone, Isa."

Bella feels as Lottie winds the end of the braid in a hair tie and then Bella bends her neck back, so she's looking at Lottie upside down.

"Casualties are just a part of this life," Lottie murmurs. "Dani knew it, Annie knew it. If it weren't Dani, it would have been Annie. Stop beating yourself up."

"I could have stopped it, so it wasn't anyone."

"You know you can't control what the Goddesses do. If Baast thought it was Dani's time and you fought against her, who knows what she would have done?"

"Shit, I hate that you're always right."

Lottie smiles, pressing a kiss to Bella's cheek.

"No, you're not. You love me."

"'Till the end of time and then some, Charlotte Marie."

Lottie smiles again. "Me too, my dahling. Now get dressed. It's almost seven."

"Yes'm."

Bella stands up from the floor and goes to her suitcase. She pulls out her white dress covered in black roses, a pair of sheer black tights, the spiky bracelet she never went anywhere or did anything without, her favorite leather jacket with the studs, and a pair of black booties. Bella slips her swimsuit off and her bra on, struggling with the straps and buckles. Damn lingerie. Why is it harder to put on and take off than a straitjacket? Bella adjusts her dress over her breasts and zips up her shoes. She shivers as a chill comes in through the open window. It's going to be a cold night tonight. As she waits for Annie and Lottie to be done in the bathroom so she can do her makeup, Bella focuses on her fingers and after feeling the sensation of seawater lapping at her toes, wiggles her fingers and they light up with a soft orange flame. Immediately she feels warmer.

"Can I have some of that?" Annie asks, emerging from the bathroom. "I'm freezing."

"Give me your hand."

Annie obliges, and Bella grabs her friend's hand, letting the flames travel up her hand and jump onto Annie's fingers.

"Ahh, much better. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Glad I can be your space heater."

Annie laughs, watching in awe as the flames dance up her fingers and into her palm. Bella shakes her hand, extinguishing the fire. Turning to a mirror, Bella goes about drawing eyeliner around her eyes. After she has a nice clean line, she smudges the hell out of it and catches Annie's gaze in the mirror.

"What?"

"You look like a panda."

"Thanks."

"That's wasn't a compliment?"

"I'm taking it as one. It's called grudge, you annoying old soul."

Annie grins. "Allison Reynolds."

"Claire Standish," Bella retorts. "With your perfect hair, perfect smile, love for raw fish wrapped in seaweed. Anything I'm missing?"

Annie's trying to look angry, but it's an age-old (playful) argument between longtime friends. The very first movie Bella had watched with Annie had been The Breakfast Club. The girls had been fourteen. Still, young preteens, and Annie had quickly taken to calling Bella (in her neon miniskirts, fishnet tights, and dirty sneakers) Allison, after the self-described 'basket case' of the movie. Naturally, Bella's reply was to name her Claire after the 'princess' of the film. And Annie did (and still does) fit that description to a T. She loves accessories, pink, polka dots, sushi, money. Anything that screams rich girl aesthetic, Annie's there. It sometimes crosses Bella's mind that it's a bit odd that they have become best friends.

"Ready?" says Lottie. "Everyone's in the lobby waiting."

Bella and Annie nod. Tyler, Bella's dog, trots over to her owner and lets Bella clip her leash on. Nix, Bella's black cat, takes a bit of coaxing to get into her carrier. Annie slips her arm through Bella's arm, and Lottie moves her arm through Annie's. The girls walk out the door and take the elevator down to the lobby. Thankfully it's empty, save for the man working at the front desk. But he knows the girls, knows Jennie, their coven mother, so he isn't too freaked out by seeing a group of solemn looking girls dressed in all black.

"Are we ready, ladies?" says Jennie.

Bella shivers. Jennie looks almost ethereal, her light eyes shining silver like the moon. But then a broad smile breaks out onto her face and Bella calms, at peace again.

"We're ready," someone (Bella thinks it was Eleanor) says.

Jennie nods. "Then let us go."

The girls form a line behind Jennie and file out of the hotel, into the night.

* * *

 **The song is "You're My Best Friend" by Queen. And I know it seems like a love song, but whatever. I liked it.**


	9. Hecate, Goddess of Witches

_"From dusk 'til dawn we honor Thee a_ _nd as Thou wilt so mote it be!"_

 _ **November 16, 2008** __**(** __**Hecate's Night)**_

Bella glances at her phone, checking the time. She has one more minute before she has to rush from the archway and through a dark street before rejoining her coven in the spot that Lottie had chosen for their Hecate's Night ritual. The girls had decided that to cause the least disturbance as possible, they would each leave their respective hiding places five minutes apart from each other. Although Greece was originally the home of the Queen Mother of Witches, they are no longer so forgiving of groups of women draped in black cloaks wandering their streets. The clock finally changes to _7:32_ and Bella begins to move silently. The streets of Trikala are quiet because it's a Sunday and most people in Greece still observe the Sabbath traditions. Which is good for Bella, since she's walking through the streets with a crabby black cat and a pit bull. Not to mention the bag on her shoulder that is filled to the brim with candles, stones, herbs, and a small statue of Hecate. If she was caught, there's no doubt there would be mass panic. As she knows, most people burn first nowadays and ask questions later.

The first of her friends that Bella runs into is Posey. She's picking leaves off of a wild mint plant and crushing them between her fingers to release their flavor. The mint will go in a decorative jar along with other ingredients that make up the oil given to Hecate as an offering.

"Hey," Bella says. "Everyone here yet?"

"Almost," replies Posey. "We're just waiting on Eleanor. Try this mint?"

Bella plucks the leaf from Posey's fingers and sticks it in her mouth. As soon as it hits her tongue, the sharp, sinus clearing flavor of it bursts in her mouth.

"It's strong."

"Good. I could smell it even before I came close."

"Probably the best mint we've found here, Pose."

"You think?" Posey asks. "Thank the Goddesses. You nervous?"

Bella shrugs. "A bit. I hope luck is on our side and we don't get caught."

"We never have," Posey answers.

"But the other coven has."

"True, but don't think about that," Posey says, brushing dirt from her hands. "We can't risk the negativity. If just one person's mind is not on the task at hand, we may all face Her wrath."

"Knock on wood we won't," remarks Bella.

The two girls turn to a tree and rap their knuckles on the bark.

"All right, I think I have enough," Posey says to herself.

Standing up, she offers her arm to Bella to slide her own arm through and the girls lock elbows.

"I hope she'll hear us tonight. The weather doesn't seem very favorable," muses Bella, looking at the sky.

"Hecate won't mind a little rain. Are you ready for this?"

"So ready!" Bella says happily. "Do you think we can take these cloaks off and dance once we're done?"

"I hope so. We haven't done that in so long. Did you bring your crystals?" wonders Posey.

"I did. Good thing the moon's waning and Hecate can offer her power to recharge them."

"The moon of revelations," Posey says dramatically and Bella laughs quite ungracefully.

The girls are farther in the woods and they see the rest of their coven mulling around, getting everything ready. The altar is being prepared in the middle of a circle of yew and young cypress trees which are Hecate's two favorites.

"This is a beautiful spot," Posey remarks.

"Totally. You did a good job Lottie," Bella adds.

Lottie grins in thanks. "I had to plant the damn cypress back in freaking May, but they look good, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

There's quiet footsteps and Eleanor finally wanders her way into the group. As soon as she's arrived, Lottie claps her hands together.

"Jennie, are we ready to begin?"

Jennie nods her okay. "Yes, I believe we are. Go ahead girls."

At that, everyone springs into action. Lucy begins to prepare the meal of fruit, bread and cheese as Miranda pours the dark blood red wine into chalices, making sure to give every cup a little extra. Posey's grinding up the herbs she'd picked and throwing everything together into the fancy jar with the sacred oil. Annie pulls out the altar cloth she made with Hecate's Wheel stitched in red thread and Bella gives her her bag to let Annie place the black and silver candles around the shape on the black material. Annie then sprinkles a ring of salt around everything for good measure and extra protection. Bella and El let all the animals off their leashes and out of their cages where they find their spots amidst the circle and wait. Bella gives Tyler a bone filled to the brim with marrow and the dog takes it, flopping in the grass to gnaw at the thing. Bella's black cat Nix gets a bowl of her favorite tuna cat food and the kitten delicately nibbles on it as she gazes around at everyone, her light orange eyes glowing in the darkness and her ears twitching intelligently. Bella watches as Eleanor lifts her snake Cleo from the ground and wraps her around her neck. Then Bella closes her eyes when El feeds her snake a mouse from her fingers.

"Euggh," Bella whines.

"Well, what can you do?" El teases.

"Maybe feed her a mouse that's already dead?" suggests Bella.

"Cleo loves live meals. Can I help that? Who am I to deny my dear snake the feeling of power she gets when she eats live food?"

"That's fucking morbid, Ellie Bellie."

"Jesus, don't call me that. What am I, four?"

Eleanor makes a face at Bella, who promptly calls her Ellie Bellie again. Throwing her hands up in mock exasperation, El leans down and places a few dead crickets next to Miranda's frog, Norman. Like Bella with the mouse, El makes a disgusted face.

"God, I hate bugs."

"Now you know how I feel with the mice situation," answers Bella, giving Annie's cat Prada some of the leftover cat food. "It's a little thing that the Muslims call karma."

"Karma is a Buddhist thing, Izzy," Annie corrects as she walks up to the altar.

She sets a bowl of garlic cloves, mandrake roots, oregano, barley and aloe leaves on the little table and giggles at Bella's expression.

"Is it?"

"Yes. Hinduism and Buddhism."

"And Jainism," El adds.

"Now I'm entirely lost, what?"

"Jainism. An ancient Indian religion. They believe that a human being who has conquered all inner passions comes to possess omniscience. They call them a Jina, which means conqueror. And their big thing is teaching non-violence," explains Eleanor.

Annie is sort of gaping at her and Bella blinks in confusion. Eleanor is the type to have bits of knowledge on nearly every subject. Just enough for her to sound like she knows what she is talking about. El wants to be a journalist for a big newspaper in England, preferably something like the _Liverpool Echo_ or even bigger, _The Times._ She's taking a few online classes at a local university in her hometown of Liverpool and hopes to graduate in the next year or two.

"I wrote a paper on it in one of my college classes. Hinduism. It was one of my A-levels."

"Okay? That's great, I guess?" Bella says.

"It's the exam that everyone in the UK takes before leaving secondary school," El tells her.

"I know what it is, El."

"What about you?" Eleanor asks. "Any A-Levels?"

"Toronto doesn't have any tests like that. But I bet Annie and Posey took the SATs in the US."

"How'd you do on those Annie?"

"Look," Annie dodges the question (Bella has a funny feeling Annie bombed the SATs). "Some owls joined us!"

She points to a yew tree above them and Bella gazes up, noticing two owls are sitting on a branch, staring at the girls intently.

"She's heeeeere," Bella says, like the girl in _Poltergeist._

"You're freaking me out," Posey says next to Bella. "Goddesses, I hate scary movies."

"Honey, you're _**living** _ a scary movie," Mira reminds her, giving out the wine chalices.

Posey giggles as she's pouring the sacred oil all over the bowl of plants that Annie had put down. The rest of the girls join the circle, chattering giddily in excitement.

"Are we ready?" Lottie asks over the earnestness.

"I think so," Lucy answers her.

"Jennie," Lottie says. "Can you bring the blood offering, please?"

Jennie stand up from the dirt and brings the raw cow's tongue, still moist and bloody, over to the group. She lets Eleanor do the blessing and then places it on top of the bowl of plants and herbs.

"Okay. Bella, the candles please?" Lottie says.

Bella nods and steps forward, flickering her finger and letting it catch fire. She lights the three candles and they burn beautifully as all her friends and fellow witches join her to gather around the altar lain out on the ground.

"Let's begin with Hecate's many names to call her to us," Lottie says. "I'll start. Oh Hecate, Queen of the Night."

"Oh Monogenes, the Only Child," Posey says sweetly.

"Oh Soteira, our Savior," Lucy declares.

"Oh Nyktipolos Khthonie, Night Wanderer of the Underworld," says Mira.

"Oh Hecate, The Distant One," Annie adds, gracefully bowing her head.

"Oh Phosphoros, The Light-Bringer," Eleanor says.

"Oh Hecate, Mistress of Magic," continues Bella.

"Oh Antania, Sender of Nocturnal Dreams," Jennie says.

Finally, in unison, they all chorus: "Oh Hecate, Queen Mother of Witches!"

The wind picks up speed, rustling Bella's hair as Lottie gestures to her.

"The invocation, please."

Being the one in the coven who has the uncanny ability to memorize and learn different languages at the drop of a hat, it's Bella who steps forward and clears her throat. She shuffles her feet nervously before starting the chant.

"Hekate autem tribus modis invocant te, Virgo terrae ac maria etiam inferis, Proserpinae, Enodia, Phosphoros, Propylaia, Atropaios, Propolos, Kourotrophos, De tunica illa crocus pulchros capillos Et nocturnum, clavigerum, Hekate, audi nos. In hac nocte iter pateat. Appropinquare exitibus nobiscum in orbes. Custos Antiqua Prudentia. Quae ducit Mesopotamia animas defunctorum. Qui es, Nocti, in sanguinem, prout tempus aeternam. Qui es mater Jacobi, Ritus praeses sistimus. Te colimus, Domine. Herbas et flammam primitiarum coram te. Libo cum melle et sicera non scribantur. Dedimus nos sciatis munera, Custodi nos, Nam unum de maxime nascitur. Et adorabunt in conspectu tuo, Hekate. Age, audi nos scito nostro, Esto nobis!"

Breathing a sigh of silent relief, she steps back and smiles as Jennie nods her approval.

"Now, the hymn if you please Lucy," Lottie continues.

Lucy walks forward and with her maddeningly powerful lungs, begins to sing her hand penned song to Hecate. The words are an old prayer, but the music and rhythm is all Lucy Edwards.

"Hail, many-named Mother of the Gods, whose children are fair. Hail, mighty Hecate of the Threshold that exists between the worlds. Shape the course of our lives with luminous Light and make it laden with good things. Drive sickness and evil from our limbs. And when our souls rage about worldly things, deliver us purified by Your soul-stirring rituals. Yes, give us your hands we pray and when we are weary, bring us to the haven of piety with Your winds. Hail, many-named Mother of the Gods, whose children are fair. Hail mighty Hecate of the Threshold!"

"And now, a bit of silent reflection," Lottie says as soon as Lucy's back to her position.

Bella bows her head, trying to decide what to pray for in the upcoming year. There was so much. She decides on the obvious first: protection, luck, and a little bit of magic. She thinks a bit more and asks for love, if Hecate isn't too busy to swing that. (And you know, maybe with a certain green eyed, bowlegged hunter named Dean? Or at the very least, that he won't kill her?) She begs the Goddess's forgiveness for how brutally she killed her aunt, no matter how evil she was. Bella knows that she has no right to kill another witch, demonic or not. That's why she always refused to go on a hunt that involved witchcraft. It was against her moral code and blood ties. She had even managed to convince everyone in her adopted family that hunted (including her crazy, monster killing mother) to leave the witch hunts to others because more often than not, these witches were good witches who had never meant to cause the harm that they did. They were new witches usually, unsure about their newfound power and how strong magic can be.

"So mote it be," Bella whispers and opens her eyes.

After seeing that everyone is done praying, Lottie waves her hands. Following her lead, the girls pour their wine onto the ground as another gift to Hecate.

"The food, Lucy, please?" Lottie says.

Lucy obliges, placing a huge bowl in the middle of Hecate's Wheel.

"And now, Annie, put the candles out."

Annie does so and in unison, the girls chorus another: "so mote it be!"

Making sure to not look back, Bella and her girls move towards their own picnic. The mood turns from one of reverence to playfulness and light as it always did when Bella was with her best friends. She smiles and grabs Annie's hand. Annie grins and swings their arms as they half jog, half skip to the blanket. They plop down next to each other, Bella throwing her legs over Annie's.

"It when well, girls. You did a good job," Jennie says, as everyone settles down.

"Yeah Luce, did you practice that song?" El asks.

"Only three times a day!" Lucy jokes.

"Really?"

"Maybe more like two."

"Annie, nice job with the alter cloth," Bella says, biting into one perfectly sour Granny Smith apple.

"Thanks," she grins. "It took me like ten days to make though. The stitching was so damn tiny."

"It still looked beautiful."

"I hate that we have to use raw tongue. Gahhh," Mira bursts out, sticking her own tongue out.

The girls all giggle at her.

"Unlike some of us, Hecate isn't a vegetarian," Posey teases.

"It's still gross!"

"It's better than sacrificing Bella's dog," points out Posey.

"Not funny Pose," Bella groans at her friend, running her hand protectively over Tyler's head.

"We wouldn't make you do that," Annie says, patting Bella on the back.

Bella makes a face. "Good."

"You know, I think this is the best wine that I've ever had, Jennie," Lottie muses.

Jennie agrees. "Thank you. I got it from one of my Wiccan friends who runs a vineyard. I'll have to tell him how much we all enjoyed it."

"It's amazing," Lucy answers.

"Delicious," adds Bella.

"I'm glad you approve," Jennie says. "Top me off, Miranda?"

Mira does, pouring her more red wine.

"I hope she doesn't get sloshed like she did last year," El mutters out of the corner of her mouth.

Bella snorts as the memory of a very inebriated Jennie last year comes to her mind. The older witch had been slamming back the strong wine like it was water and by eleven that night, she had been reduced to drunkenly crooning "Le Freak" and doing shitty renditions of old disco moves. The girls had all been so disappointed that none of them had thought to bring a video camera to record the moment. Dani, being Dani, had said that they could have probably gotten a huge wad of cash for that video. It was even funnier the next morning when Jennie woke up with berries stuck in her hair and juice splattered on her shirt and the rest of the girls had to explain to her that she was trying to recreate the sparkles on the old disco artists costumes. Or something. It was a very confusing moment for everyone involved. Bella goes from discreetly giggling into her hand to full on, belly cramping laughter. She laughs so hard that a piece of bread goes soaring out of her mouth and lands on Lucy.

"Eww, Bella! Gross!" she says, throwing it to Bella.

"Don't throw it back!" Bella says, tossing it at her again.

"Stop!" the other cries, giggling. "That's so nasty!"

"FOOD FIGHT!" Posey sings, hitting Annie with a handful of grapes.

Bella grabs up all the food bits that she can hold and starts launching them at her friends. Even Jennie joins in and gets Bella with a peach pit. Her retaliation is half of a fig to Jennie's cheek. Bella hits Miranda with a chunk of cheddar cheese and then gets an apple core to the boob. A crust of bread lands in Bella's hair from Posey and she hits Posey right in the forehead with a piece of pear. Just then, Annie decides to turn around and dump a glass of wine right on Bella's head, making the latter squeal loudly.

"Shit!"

Annie giggles as Bella glowers at her.

"Annie Louisa Maxwell! Now I'm going to smell like a fucking distillery!"

Annie dodges Bella's giant hunk of Swiss that comes flying her way. She disappears with a wink and reappears about ten feet away.

"Come get me, Iz!" she crones at Bella.

Instead of going after her, Bella turns and pokes Miranda on the shoulder.

"Tag, you're it! No tag backs!"

Bella spins around and disappears away from her. She ends up in a tree next to an owl and sees Mira flip her off before going after Lottie with a huge grin on her face. Lottie squeals and vanishes from Mira's finger tips. Mira finally goes after and tags El. Eleanor starts to chase after Lucy and gets her right away because Lucy is the slowest runner on Earth. Lucy spins around to touch El again, but Eleanor's too quick for her and ends up thirty feet away. Lucy huffs, irritated at all of them and decides to come at Bella in the yew. Bella shakes her head and manages to wave her fingers fast enough so that she escapes Lucy by just a few seconds.

"Damn it, Bella!"

"Better luck next time!"

Bella jumps down from the lowest branch of the giant tree and rejoins her friends. Lucy eventually gets a finger on Lottie and she flops to the ground tiredly. The moon is rising higher and higher in the sky as the girls start getting drunk off of their magic. The more that natural borns use their magic, the more wild they get, giddy on the bubbly feeling that is equal to the sensation that drinking very good champagne gives you. It's why the cliche image of witches is of them dancing crazily around a fire without clothes.

Speaking of dancing without clothes, as the girls continue to run around laughing, cloaks fall off shoulders and shoes are thrown to the side. Each girl is in a state of undress, yet no one is entirely naked. It's way too cold, much to Bella's disappointment. She slides her tights off and unzips her dress, letting it pool around her feet. Annie helps her undo the braid in her hair and the messy ringlets fall wildly down her shoulders.

"Can you light a bigger fire Bella?" Lucy asks.

Everyone murmurs their agreements. Bella pads barefoot over to the pile of wood and concentrates hard, letting the feeling of water lapping at her toes overwhelm her. After a few seconds, flames burst from her fingertips and she sticks her hands out, letting the logs catch fire. She turns back to her friends and someone (more than likely Mira) has pulled out a cordless boombox. To the sounds of classic rock and the occasional Celtic tune, the girls begin their dance again, weaving in and out of the trees, the firelight reflecting the glow of their eyes.

* * *

 **(Here's the Latin translation, by the way: Hecate of the Three Ways, we invoke You,** **Maiden of the Land, the Underworld & the Seas as well, ****Chthonia, Enodia, Phosphoros,** **Propylaia, Atropaios, Propolos,** **Kourotrophos,** **She of the Saffron Robe and beautiful hair,** **Nocturnal One, Keeper of the Keys,** **Hecate, hear us.** **Upon this night, the path is open.** **Approach the Crossroads of the Worlds and be with us.** **Keeper of Ancient Wisdom,** **She who guides the Souls of the Dead across the River.** **You who are** **Black as Night, Red as Blood, Wise as time everlasting,** **You who are the Pale Mother,** **Be present at this our Hallowed Rite.** **We bow to You, Lady.** **With herbs and flame we make offerings to You.** **With honey and cider we pour a libation to You.** **We have given our offerings that You may know us,** **Keep us,** **For we are one of Your special breeds.** **We bow before You, Hecate,** **Come, Hear us, Know our Names,** **Be with us.)**

 **And the song is "Hecate, Goddess of Witches" by Waning Moon. It's creepy and so perfect for this chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading everyone!**


	10. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

**Stole bits for this chapter from** ** _Dream a Little Dream of Me!_** **You'll definitely see why ;) Smut warning, by the way! Probably between a T and an M. Like I wouldn't let my sixteen year old sister read it yet. (Although maybe that's a bad comparison because I wouldn't want my baby sister to read anything like this even if she's thirty...)**

* * *

 _"Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?"_

 _ **November 23, 2008**_

"Dean?"

Dean grunts in indignation and tears his gaze away from the lore website to meet the eyes of a very worried Sam. Dean hasn't slept in days, his mind filled with dreams of bitchy demons and hellhounds tearing into his flesh. Not to mention the dreams of torture that are still seared into his brain. He can still see that young kid's soul that he had made bleed over and over. Ugh. Dean shakes his head and refocuses his attention. He hates the look of pity in his brother's eyes.

"Would you stop giving me that look, Sammy?" he says. "I've told you a million times that I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Let's just forget this case, okay? You need a break."

Dean slams his palm angrily on the table and stands up, glaring at Sam.

"No Sam. Damn it, what don't you understand? I tortured souls in Hell and I liked it! How can I _**ever**_ even think of fuckin' redeeming myself from that? The only way I can feel better about it is by saving as many people here on Earth as I can. By killin' all the evil sons of bitches I can!"

Sam sighs. "Dean, look..."

"Christ, give it a rest!" Dean runs a hand over his face. "Just go get a salad or something. I can hold down the fort."

Sam scoffs. "Fine. I'm going to go to the library and read up on Asian folklore."

Dean throws his hands up. "Thank fuck."

Sam scoffs again, this time a little more violently. "Yeah. Whatever."

He sweeps the Impala's keys up in his giant moose hoof and stalks to the motel door. With a small scowl, Sam leaves the room and Dean waits until he hears the car's engine rumbles to life before groaning loudly. He goes and pours another glass of whiskey, slamming it back in three seconds, barely making a face. A satisfying burn settles in his throat as Dean returns to his research. It's one of those cases where the only evidence is strange symbols that look Japanese but for all Dean knows, could be Chinese, Korean or even Vietnamese or something. It doesn't help that's he exhausted and has a pounding headache that's making his brain feel like mush.

"What are we dealin' with here? Five people drowned, three kidnapped children, one sexual assault and four drowned horses? This is the weirdest fuckin' thing I've ever heard of," he says to himself.

Dean puts his head in one of his hands as he continues scrolling down the webpage. God, he wants to lay down and sleep for a year, but he fucking can't. Guilt resulting from his activities in Hell gnaws on his heart. He has to wipe all the innocent blood he had spilled off of his hands. Sighing heavily, Dean can feel his eyes close.

"It's a Kappa," says a voice.

As if he has been shot, Dean leaps up quickly, startled. He feels for his knife on the table, yet it's not where he left it. In front of him is Bella, one eyebrow raised as she plays with his blade.

"Looking for this?"

Dean's eyes narrow. "How the hell did you get in here?"

Bella shrugs, her eyes on Dean, watching him in amusement.

"The door was unlocked."

"So you just decide to waltz right in here?"

"I think I prefer to do the tarantella, to be honest."

Dean makes a noise of irritation. "What do you want?"

"Wanted to come and say hey," Bella waves, "Hey."

"Can I have my knife back?"

"Not if you're going to stab me with it."

Dean glares. "I hate you. And why are you really here?"

"Because," she says slowly, drawing the word out.

"Because why?"

"Was hoping you could help me out with something."

Bella trails a finger down her already low cut shirt. She pulls it down slightly so Dean can see the tops of her tits spilling out from her blue colored bra. He suddenly has a difficult time swallowing without gaping like a fish out of water.

"What are you doin'?" he says, trying to sound gruff.

"I kind of have a problem, Winchester. And so do you."

"Meanin'?"

"Meaning," she says, striding up to Dean so they're inches apart, "I'll help you with this case if you take care of my little problem."

Dean makes a surprised little noise of desire. He grins slyly down at Bella.

"What kind of problem are we talkin' about here?"

Bella smiles teasingly and Dean's gaze drops to her lips. They're colored a dark purple and (if it's even possible) look even plumper than before. He wants to sink his teeth into the bottom one and listen to her whimper his name. Sonofabitch. He wants her right now, like this, even at the risk of Sam walking in on them.

"Can you guess?" she answers.

"Why don't you give me a hint?" he suggests, running a finger down her cheek.

Bella smiles again so widely that Dean can see the sharp points of her canines.

"I want to play a little."

"You wanna play? Well, let's play kitten."

Dean winds his arms around her waist and pulls her tightly against his chest. He tugs a few strands of her hair in his hands before drawing her up for a mind numbing kiss. Bella tastes like strawberry gum and Dean has to quell the urge to moan loudly. He doesn't even really notice that he's been moving until Bella's back collides with the ugly mustard colored motel wall. Her fingers are in his hair, scratching his scalp and Dean groans a little weakly into her mouth. He spreads her legs apart with his knee and settles his thigh up against her. Bella's tongue licks across Dean's bottom lip and he takes it, suckling gently and loving the sighs she's making. He's so caught up in her noises that it takes him a minute to realize that Bella is shamelessly grinding her lower half on his thigh. Dean quirks his lips up in amusement and slides his hands under her shirt. His fingers grip her hips tightly and Bella shivers.

"Ah, you remembered," she sighs, her accent more obvious than before.

"I'll never forget it, Bells," Dean answers, sliding his nose down her cheek. "Count on it."

He tugs her shirt up over her head, needing only a few seconds to get it onto the floor somewhere. Then he's back on her and they're kissing like it's the end of the fucking world and Bella's purring that little pleasure purr that she does and Dean's jeans are feeling increasingly tighter with every pass of her fingers through his hair and it's just fucking **perfection.** Dean pulls off his own t-shirt and Bella latches her fingers onto bare skin, running her black tipped nails all across his back. Dean grunts in her mouth, hoping to God that he'll have little red scratches running down his shoulders after this is all over.

"Bed?" Bella hums questioningly.

Dean shrugs, wrapping his arms under her cute ass. As he begins to press kisses to her neck, Bella gracefully jumps up and locks her legs around Dean's hips. And then he decides that he kind of likes holding her trapped against the wall, so he presses her harder against it.

"Christ, you're fuckin' gorgeous, baby," Dean mumbles against Bella's throat.

She moans a noiseless moan and tilts her head back.

"You were grindin' on my thigh before," he continues.

Dean breaks away from her collarbones to look at her. Just as he had hoped, Bella's cheeks are flushed a light pink with embarrassment. He grabs her earlobe between his teeth, tugging on it as he thrusts up against her.

"Sorry," says Bella weakly.

"Don't be sorry," Dean gives her a smirk. "You can grind on me anytime you want to."

"Like this?"

She gives Dean a good jolt of friction right to his dick at the swivel of her hips. He lets out a rough growl as she does it again and again, making Dean's eyes roll back in his head at how fucking awesome it feels. In an attempt to regain the upper hand, he trails his nose down her neck and as soon as Bella gives a particularly rough grind, Dean bites down gently. She yelps and Dean finally regains his control at her distraction. He moves his hips on hers again and again, giving hard thrusts and gentle rolls to keep Bella gasping his name the way she is. Finally after a few minutes of thrusts and neck biting, Dean slows down and locks eyes with her.

"Jesus," Bella lets out a snort, "I bet I look like a fucking leper."

Dean laughs. "Mmm, they match your hair."

"You're hysterical," she says, regaining her composure.

"I'm fuckin' hilarious, sweetheart."

"Uh, no."

"Yep. You love me and my amusin' banter."

"No, I don't."

"Totally do."

"Totally don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do. Admit it."

Bella shakes her head. "Don't think I will."

"Say it!" Dean says warningly.

"I don't think so," she quirks her lips up. "No."

"You asked for it."

With that, Dean slides his fingers from her ass and onto her bare skin where he starts to tickle her sides. It's a gentle, feather light touch, not too annoying, but Bella immediately begins squirming. She squirms so much that she ends up almost collapsing to the ground as her ankles unravel themselves from Dean's hips in her haste to get away from his fingers.

"Stop it!" cries Bella, laughing.

"Say you think I'm funny!"

"Hell no! I'm not adding to your already grossly inflated ego!"

Bella juts her chin out in a sign of defiance. Dean grins down at her, beginning to tickle her neck. That makes her laugh even harder and Bella even tries to swat his hands away from her.

"Stop, Dean!"

"Hey, you started it by not laughing at my comedic genius. "

"Winchester!"

"Fine, fine," he surrenders. "I'm done."

"Thank you," says Bella, adjusting herself. "I'm really ticklish."

"I could tell."

She opens her mouth for a scathing retort, but before the words can get out, Dean has her curled around him again, his mouth pushing insistently against hers. He manages to maneuver enough so that with just a twist of his hand, Bella's bra comes unbuckled. They lock eyes as she slides it slowly down her arms and throws it on the ground with her shirt. Dean rakes his eyes over her frame and grins again, this one more of a cat-got-the-canary smile. Bella's fucking beautiful. All warm skin and tits the perfect size to fit heavily in his hands. She has moles scattered in random places across her torso (one, Dean is amused to find, sits right under the curve of her left boob) and the belly button jewelry she wears today is the same color of her lavender hair.

"Pretty girl," Dean murmurs.

A wide smile breaks across Bella's face and she cups his cheeks in her hands.

"Handsome... But I'd like you better with your pants off."

"Would you?"

"I think so."

"Whatever the lady wants."

Dropping Bella gently onto the bed behind him, Dean then stands up and unbuttons his jeans. He lets out a little sigh of reprieve when the painful pressure on his boner is resolved as he edges his jeans down his legs. Next it's Bella's turn and Dean takes time to slowly peel her jeans from her legs, running his lips down the same path. He presses kisses to all ten of her black tipped toes and Bella giggles lightly, wiggling them at him.

"Cute."

"I _**am**_ adorable."

"Back to this," she answers. "Cocky."

"I'm just self-assured," he remarks.

She rolls her eyes. "That's just another way of saying cocky."

"Is not," Dean says, hovering his lips mere centimeters away from Bella's.

"You don't think?"

"Naw."

"I do."

She leans up on her elbows and raises an eyebrow at him. Dean kisses her again, tangling his fingers in her curly hair. Just like he took advantage of her distraction before, Bella somehow manages to use her legs to flip Dean over onto the bed while he's distracted with her little purrs of pleasure. Dean is breathless as Bella does that sexy, full body hair flip that girls do. He lets out a tiny groan as strands of her hair tickle his nipples. She smiles down at him, a dangerous, mischievous look.

"Bells-" Dean starts.

"Shush," says Bella, placing a finger on his lips. "Let me look at you."

Oh, she wants to tease now? Good idea. Dean is _**very**_ good at that shit and he'd get a degree in teasing chicks if it was a college major. Staring into her eyes, Dean takes her finger in his mouth. He suckles it gently, watching her. Bella lets out a small sigh and gazes down at him. Dean wraps his tongue around her finger, making loud, exaggerated groans in hopes of riling Bella up enough so that she'll jump on his dick. But she merely raises an eyebrow, seeming to know his game. Dean takes her middle finger in his mouth and her ring finger for good measure and he gently scrapes his teeth over them.

"Get nail polish in your mouth and you'll die," Bella says lightly, but Dean notices how hooded her eyes have gotten.

"Bells," Dean says conversationally, his voice muffled by her fingers. "Why don't you swing those sexy thighs over my head and sit on my face for awhile?"

"Dean-"

"Think about it. You, me, for hours, just lettin' me love you. Whattya say, kitten?"

A shy smile breaks across Bella's flushed cheeks.

"All right."

Dean internally fist pumps in victory as Bella takes her cotton boy shorts off her legs. She kicks her feet and Dean is impressed when Bella flings her boy shorts so hard that they make a perfect shot onto the motel dresser.

"Three pointer right there," he says.

"Oh, thanks," says Bella, climbing over him. "I'm related to Magic Jackson, you know."

Dean laughs. "His name's Magic _**Johnson**_ , sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, fuck. Wait, seriously?" she asks, forehead creased.

"I'm pretty fuckin' sure. I used to watch him play on TV."

"Oh," hums Bella. "Shows how much I know about sports."

She's sitting on her shins now, hovering herself right over Dean's mouth. His fists clench at his sides instinctively and he groans softly. Bella looks so fucking awesome from this angle.

"You can back out if you want," she says.

Oh, fuck no. Jesus, Dean's been fantasizing about this since the day they met! Which is really saying something, seeing as Bella had been covered in blood and a few stray bits of grey matter.

"C'mere," he coaxes, trying to keep his voice from wavering and giving away how much he actually wants this. "Sit down."

"You're sure?"

"Woman, I've never been more sure of anythin' in my life. Except for that time I played Zeppelin trivia at a dive bar down in Oklahoma and destroyed the competition," he shakes his head. "Would you just come here?"

"Okay, okay."

Dean licks his lips in anticipation as Bella edges herself closer to his face. He lets out a groan as she sinks down on her knees. He puts one palm flat on her lower back and then...

And then...

And then...

Dean snaps awake as someone violently shakes his shoulder. He blinks in confusion, trying to pull himself out of his glorious dreamworld (fuck, he was thisclose! Damn it!) and back to reality.

"Wha'?" he mumbles.

"Dude," Sam says, snapping his fingers in front of his brother's face. "You here with me?"

"Yeah," Dean wipes a bit of drool from his mouth. "Yeah."

"Good. Listen, I think I know what we're dealing with."

"Awesome. What is it?"

"It's a Kappa," Sam shows him a piece of paper with a picture on it, "A Japanese water demon."

"Oh. Great."

He glances at the computer where he had seemingly fallen asleep. The evidence of this comes in the form of a three thousand letter Google search of the letters n and b. Dean shifts in his seat, trying to adjust himself without letting Sam see. But his brother bursts out in cackling laughter and Dean glares at him.

"What?"

"You were moaning Bella's name before I woke you up!" Sam says gleefully. "You were really damn loud!"

"Stuff it, Sam."

"You looove her!"

"Stop."

"Dean and Bella, sitting in a tree-"

"Would you shut up?!"

"F-U-C-K-I-N-G!"

"We hooked up because we were drunk. That's it, Sam. It'll never happen again!"

"That thing you're hiding under the table seems to agree with me."

"Oh, shut up Sam!"

* * *

 _"I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something."_

Bella stretches out on her lounge chair, turning the page of her book idly. The temperature in Thessaly had spiked over the last few days and she and her friends had been spending the majority of their time outside. It's one of those just-chilling kind of days and Bella is laying by the pool with Annie and Miranda.

"Why are you dream stalking someone named Dean?" Annie asks.

Bella looks up from her book and takes the lemonade that her friend hands her.

"What?"

"We're sharing a room, Iz. And you talk in your sleep. If you even are sleeping, which I don't think you are."

"It was one night, Annie."

Annie cocks her head. "So who is this Dean that you spent one night dream stalking then?"

"He's... No one," says Bella.

"And you expect me to believe that? Please. You were having dream sex or something, Bella."

"Fine," Bella relents. "It's this guy named Dean Winchester."

"The hunter?!" Annie says loudly.

"Yes?"

"You're fucking joking. How do you even know him?"

"We met on a hunt."

"You've slept with him, haven't you?"

"It was once and we were drunk," says Bella hastily.

"Christ, Bella. If he realizes you've been dream stalking him, he'll find out you're a natural born and kill you!" says Annie harshly.

Bella winces at her friend's words.

"He already knows?!" Annie yelps.

"Didn't get much of a choice when he caught me carving protection symbols in the Upyr's stomach."

"Seriously?" Annie says. "Goddesses, do you have a death wish or something?"

"I think the thing we should be asking Bella is how he was?" Miranda cuts in.

"Mira!"

"What? Let the girl have her fun, Annie. So, give us the dirty details!"

Annie makes a scathing noise in the back of her throat.

"He made me come five times, I think it was?" Bella says. "And he kept telling me to sit on his face?"

"Wow, Bella! Get some!" Mira says.

Annie groans, her head falling into her hands. "Jesus Mira!"

"Oh come on, Annie. Let the girl live a little."

"All I'm saying is that maybe he's just using Bella to get her to spill all the coven secrets so he can gut us and then burn us all alive!"

Bella wrinkles her nose. "I- don't think he's that manipulative."

Bella doesn't want to admit to Annie that she's probably right. Because then Annie would be rubbing her face in it forever. Ugh.

"All hunters are," Annie reminds.

"Maxie, we were drunk as fuck all," says Bella. "Look, it won't happen again."

"Promise?" Annie says.

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"It was good," mutters Bella. "I liked it a lot."

"BELLA!"

"It was fucking great sex, okay? Sue me!"

Annie huffs. "If you fall in love with him, don't come crying to me after he knifes you."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Annie," Bella says, rolling her eyes. "You know, for someone who keeps telling me to stop fucking around and get into a real relationship, you sure are being hypocritical."

"Hunters like Dean Winchester don't do relationships, Izzy. They say it's because they're always in danger and always on the move, but it's really because they're insecure toddlers who don't want to settle down because then that means they'd have to give up their man-whore ways. It takes a special man to be a hunter and I don't mean that in a good way. Dean Winchester has probably slept with more random women in the last week than you ever have in your whole life."

Bella runs her hand through her frizzy hair.

"So what I'm hearing is that I'm just Dean's flavor of the day? Well, not to destroy your smug, but he was mine too. I was at a bar, drunk and sad, looking for a guy. Dean was the hottest one there and he wanted me. Simple."

"So then why the dream sex, Bella?"

Bella sighs. "Honestly? Because I haven't met anyone else I'd like to bang since Halloween. And like I said, he was... _ **good**_."

Miranda busts out laughing and Bella looks at her, grinning from ear to ear. She ignores Annie's dramatic groan.

"You deserve it, Bella!" says Mira brightly. "Five years of shitty sex to make up for!"

"Thank you. I'm glad you're seeing my point of view."

"I definitely do. Now, start at the beginning, okay?"

Annie just shakes her head in disbelief as Bella turns her body towards Miranda and starts to tell her tale, vulgar descriptions and all.

* * *

 **The SotD is "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics.**

 **Reviews, favorites, and alerts are spooky ghosts, fam. Dean and Bella appreciate all their readers.**

 **And take my Halloweentown poll maybe?**


	11. Happy Xmas (War is Over)

**(REWRITTEN!)**

 **Stay with me guys because it only gets more wild from here! :)**

* * *

 _"Let's hope it's a good one. Without any fear."_

 _ **December 24, 2008**_

The door slams and Bella winces at the loud crashing noise. She steps into the kitchen of her mom and dad's house and surveys the Christmas decorations. Tyler, Bella's dog, struggles on her leash and Bella finally unclips the poor girl from her lead. Tyler tears through the house and out into the snow covered yard to take a well deserved pee break. Since she had been in Greece for more than a month, Bella, as soft-hearted as she is, felt guilty leaving all her pets alone for another week with a pet sitter. So she had piled all seven of them into her tiny red Chevy and made the long trip from her flat in Toronto to Aberdeen and Forden in Montreal. And you can bet it was a hell of a trek with four cats, a squirming, barking pit bull, and a bearded dragon all crammed into her tiny car. It is nine in the morning and already, Bella wants to sleep for a door slams and Bella winces at the loud crashing noise. She steps into the kitchen of her mom and dad's house and surveys the Christmas decorations. Tyler, Bella's dog, struggles on her leash and Bella finally unclips the poor girl from her lead. Tyler tears through the house and out into the snow covered yard to take a well deserved pee break. Since she had been in Greece for more than a month, Bella, as soft-hearted as she is, felt guilty leaving all her pets alone for another week with a pet sitter. So she had piled all seven of them into her tiny red Chevy and made the long trip from her flat in Toronto to Aberdeen and Forden in Montreal. And you can bet it was a hell of a trek with four cats, a squirming, barking pit bull, and a bearded dragon all crammed into her tiny car. It is nine in the morning and already, Bella wants to sleep for a year.

Setting the two huge cat carriers on the ground, Bella opens the latch and the kittens wander out. Keith, Bella's big Savannah, rubs his cheek on her clothed leg gratefully. Bella leans down and gives him a good scratch behind the ears.

"There's a good kitty," she coos. "You hungry?"

The answer to that question seems to be a resounding yes; especially from Ringo, her perpetually hungry grey tiger cat. He meows and butts her ankle with his head.

"Yes, Ringo, okay."

Bella scoops some cat food into four bowls and Ringo eagerly weaves in and out of her feet as she walks into the laundry room. She sets down his bowl first and he immediately buries his face in the mush.

"You're a dork," she says fondly.

Keith wanders in and Bella wonders for a moment where her other two furry children are. Then she hears the jingling of her girls' favorite toy and she hums in acknowledgement.

"Nix!" Bella sings. "Luna! Food!"

That makes them come running. Bella wanders back out to the kitchen and looks at her bearded dragon.

"Tolkien, want a snack?"

She gives him a few bits of black fly larvae, along with a bit of basil and bok choy which are his favorites. All the animals get bowls of fresh water and then Bella puts the larvae in the fridge with a hastily scrawled message reading: _**TOLKIEN'S BUGS. NOT FOR HUMANS**_ with a sketch of a skull-and-crossbones. Last time she had come home with her lizard, her little sister Emilie almost had one of Tolkien's live crickets. She thought the container held cheesy crackers and needless to say, Bella thinks Emilie has yet to stop screaming.

Tyler walks back in with snow all over her paws and bits of mud following behind her. She goes to her water bowl and laps it up thirstily, splashing the liquid every which way. Bella makes a mental note to make sure she cleans the floor before her little brother Ryder slips and breaks his head open. The kid is clumsier than a newborn foal on roller skates. The ugly, old-fashioned phone on the wall starts to ring and Bella maneuvers carefully around the puddles and mud to answer it.

"Hello?" she says.

"Hey, little sis!" her brother Jace says happily. "Are you ready for the yearly Anderson Christmas Bash?"

It's been a while since Bella has heard his voice and she smiles. They had only been communicating through text because Jace had been busy, almost busier than Bella had been. He sounds out of breath, she notices, as though he just finished his hunt. Bella almost laughs as she pictures him all sweaty with his heavy, grunge style bangs flopped over and into his eyes. He's probably covered in blood- some his and some the werewolf's he had been hunting. Bella casually leans against the counter and tuck the phone between her shoulder and her ear.

"I'm pumped," Bella answers. "Wanna make a bet on which insane behavior Jordan will partake in this year as the number of drinks he has increases?"

"Okay. I'll bet 'Destructive or Potentially Hazardous Recreation of Stunts He Saw on Jackass,' " Jace replies.

"And I'll bet 'Singing Shitty Songs from the '80s."

"What's the wager, Jingle Bells?"

Bella chews her lip in thought. "I'll give you $5 whenever he does one of yours and you give me $5 for one of mine."

"And if we even out?"

"One game of poker and one game of pool. If we tie, we keep playing. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good. So when do you think you'll be home?"

Jace kind of groans. "Probably around five. This hunt has been a killer."

"Yeah," says Bella, chewing her fingernail. "Hunting can be a bitch."

"Why don't you just tell mom and dad that you don't wanna do it anymore? Why be that miserable?"

"Jay, how did you even know that's what I meant?"

"I've known you since you were writing letters to me in your shitty translated English, Jingle Bells," Jace says.

Bella rolls her eyes. "And you think mum would just let me walk away?"

"It's your life. She's already accepted that you're a witch. You don't have to keep doing this whole 'proving-i'm-not-evil' thing that you are," he says.

There's a bit of silence. Bella absentmindedly tugs on the hair tie around her wrist, letting it snap back onto her skin with a satisfying sting.

"Right?" prompts Jace.

"I mean, yes. But mamma si arrabbierà," Bella whispers. "E non sono male."

"She won't get mad, Jingle Bells. And she gets that you're not evil," Jace says patiently. "Look, don't even say anything. Just go off the grid. Don't take any cases. I know she's half crazy with monster prejudice, but a monster you ain't."

"Thanks Jay. You know you're right."

"Aren't I always?"

"Depends on the situation."

Jace snorts. "Anyway, can you tell mom that I'm bringing a few buds over to the party? And that we'll probably need more booze."

"Hunters?" Bella hums.

"Yeah, hunters. Look, I gotta go. See you tonight?"

"Yeah, see you. Bye."

She hangs up the phone, slides off her shoes, and goes up the stairs two at a time to find the rest of her family. She hears the shower running from her parents' bedroom and knocks on the door. It opens and Bella's dad stands there. He grins his sly grin and Bella smiles right back. Holding out his arms, he gathers his daughter up in his arms.

"Bella!" his Southern drawl is the best sound in the whole world, "Well, how are you doin'?"

"Amazing, now that I'm here. How are you?"

"Amazin', now that you're here. I can't wait to hear about your trip. Was it nice?"

Bella nods. "But not as pretty as Uncle Barry's ranch."

That makes her dad laugh heartily. "That's my girl."

She wraps her arms tighter around him and buries her face into his shirt. He smells like pipe tobacco, that strange typical Texas man cologne, and pine. It's a comforting scent to Bella. After her real biological parents had died and the Anderson family (who had known the Rossis for years, despite living almost across the world from each other) took Bella in, the very first person in North America she had hugged was Robert Anderson. And even though she wasn't his real kid, she was his daughter. This whole family was her real family. A mishmash of adopted and biological kids. A crazy, wild, Southern, half hunting family. Bella wouldn't trade them for much of anything.

"Can you tell mum that Jace is bringing a couple hunting buddies over?" asks Bella. "And that we probably need more whiskey?"

"I'll give her the message. If only you get everyone outta bed and gettin' 'em to help. We got a lot to do."

"All right," answers Bella.

"Love you," her dad says, kissing her on the head. "Nice seein' ya, kiddo."

"Love you too, Dad."

Her dad retreats back into the bedroom and Bella moves on to wake her siblings up. The first door that she sees is covered in clothing ads, nail polish swatches, and a hockey poster. Her little sisters' room. Darien and Dublin. Bella pounds on the door loudly.

"Dublin! Darien! Got up! I'm your wake up committee and it's Christmas in less than twenty-four hours! We got a lot to do!"

A groggy Darien slips out from the cracked door.

"Do ya hafta knock so loud, Bella?"

Darien looks tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Probably, Bella assumes, because they had started playing a brand new season of her favorite show (Project Runway Canada) at ten at night. Then again at one in the morning. Darien watches them both just so she can, quote 'learn everything I possibly can about design!' End quote.

"Well, hello. Nice to see you too, kid. Is Dublin up yet?"

Bella flips on the light and narrowly misses getting hit in the face with a pillow. She gives her fourteen-year-old sister a wide smile.

"Dublin Reese! How are you?"

"Tired."

"Well, get up and do something! Then you won't be!" Bella says cheerfully.

"Gosh, you're annoying sometimes," Dublin mumbles, but she climbs out of bed anyway.

"Hey, I missed you too!"

Satisfied, Bella knocks on the next door and it takes merely a second before both of her littlest sisters are standing there. Emilie gives Bella a huge smile, her natural hair a halo around her head. Next to her stands Isla, who gives Bella a look that screams 'help me!' Her eyes are covered by the ugliest blue eye shadow that the world has ever seen and a bright red blush paints her cheeks. The entire bottom half of her face is also enveloped in a brown lipstick. Bella grimaces.

"Is, what is all that about?"

"Well, we've been up for a bit, so I decided to let Emilie do my make-up," answers Isla, as though she regrets this.

"Oh," is all Bella can manage, "It looks good, Em. Lovely job."

"Thank you!" she shouts. "See, I _**told**_ you so, Isla!"

"Emilie, this shade of blue isn't even found in nature!"

"So what? Know-it-all!"

"What did you just call me?"

"Know-it-all! Isla's a know-it-all!"

"Shut up! You made me look like a clown!"

"I didn't!"

"Did!"

"So didn't!"

"So did!"

"Guys!" Bella yells. "Calm down! Emilie, it's not nice to call Isla a know-it-all. And Is, humor Em, okay? Please you guys, it's almost Christmas. You don't want Santa to skip our house, do you?"

"NO!"

"Good. Can you get dressed and go downstairs then?"

"YES!"

Bella laughs. "Thank you."

The girls' door closes again and Bella hears little whines and a few muttered argumentative words as they fight to see who gets to use the bathroom first. A daily battle.

"Is that my gorgeous sister I hear?" a voice says in Bella's ear.

Bella jumps in surprise and turns around. Her sister Jessa is right next to her and the two girls squeal as they see each other. Bella grabs her older sister up into a fierce hug and they both jump on their toes excitedly.

"How are you, Jess?" Bella asks.

"Good. So good. How have you been?" replies Jessa.

"Ugh, tired. But I'm glad to be home. I forgot how lonely it is living with pets that can't talk to you."

"I hear that. Gemma and I have been having to split up and take separate hunts. Monsters are just swarming the earth lately. It's exhausting! And I miss her when she's gone."

Bella nods sympathetically. "I know. I hear you, sis."

"But," Jessa continues, "Things are getting pretty serious. I met her parents last weekend. Maybe we'll get married."

"I hope you get married." Bella pauses, "Speaking of weddings, where's Winter?"

Bella's seventeen-year-old sister Winter is one of those mushy romantic types, constantly writing this weirdly deep poetry about love and heartbreak. She's been planning her dream wedding since she turned eight. And the song she'll dance to with her new husband is between "With You" from the musical Pippin or "Tonight" from West Side Story. Winter is a musical theater geek through and through.

"She's still asleep," Jessa says fondly. "I guess rehearsals run late even if it's almost Christmas."

"Want to go wake her up?" says Bella mischievously.

"Hell yes!"

Giggling, the two (entirely adult) sisters run into the room that Jessa, Winter, and Bella share. They open the shades to let the light in and Bella hops up on Winter's bed as Jessa turns on the speakers as loud as they can go. Lucky for them, the song that comes up is "Blitzkrieg Bop" by The Ramones and Winter quickly wakes up with a bit of wild flailing.

"God, fuck!' she yelps. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Morning, my sleepy sister!" Jessa says.

"Did you have lovely dreams about Chris?" adds Bella.

Winter smiles sleepily. "No. But he did give me this after practice last night."

She holds up her slim arm and on her wrist sits a charm bracelet with a feather charm hanging from it.

"A feather quill!" Bella says. "Like Shakespeare!"

"Good old Billy Shakes. It's really nice, Win."

"Thanks, guys. Chris is really great," Winter gets a dreamy look on her face. "He may be the one."

Jessa and Bella share a look of panic. Winter is sharp though and notices this.

"I was joking!" she says quickly.

Bella wipes a bit of pretend sweat from her brow.

"Oh, whew."

"Really had us going there, Win!"

"I was just going to say that you'd have to get married in Mississippi or something."

"No. I mean, come on. We haven't even been dating for half a year yet. And college is just a few months away. Who knows what will happen?"

"You'll find a glorious man at uni?" Bella says, draping an arm around her sister.

"Oh fuck, I hope so."

"Although you don't go to college to find a boyfriend," continues Jessa, flopping down in Winter's other side.

"She's right," Bella agrees. "School before... School before what?"

"Tools?" suggests Winter.

"That's right. School before tools!"

"Education before fornication?"

Winter wrinkles her nose. "That one doesn't work as well, Jessi."

"Somehow I like it better though."

"Oddly enough, me too," Bella says.

The bedroom door bursts open and at full speed, in sprints Ryder. He launches himself at his sisters, yelling 'incoming' before almost landing entirely on Bella's chest.

"BELLA BELLA BELLA!" he cries excitedly. "YOU'RE HOME!"

"How'd you guess?" she says, ruffling his hair.

"Ringo came to say hello. He meowed at the door until I let him in!"

"Still hyper, I see," Bella says.

"Try living with him," Winter says.

"Hey!"

"Sorry Ry, but it's true," Winter says. "You and Atticus make one heck of a duo."

"What's a 'duo?'" he wonders.

"A group of two," explains Jessa.

"Oh," he says seriously. Then he's back to hopping crazily on Winter's bed. "Bella, how was Greece?!"

"It was really nice, Ry. I'll have to tell you all about it."

"And when do I get my gift?"

"Tomorrow," answers Bella. "When it's Christmas."

Ryder pouts. "Boo."

"It's in less than a day, Ryder. You can do it."

"Don't know if I can," he sighs.

Bella ruffles his hair again. It's the softest thing in the world and she loves it.

"Go get dressed, you dork. We've got things to make and cookies to bake."

"Presents to wrap and cocoa to lap!" Ryder croons, running back out of the room.

"Good one!" Winter hollers after him.

"Lights to string and decorations to bring," Jessa muses.

"Ooo, candles to light and letters to write!" says Bella.

"Hmm, my turn?" Winters says. "Okay, how about bells to jingle and folks to mingle. Your turn, Jessa."

"Santa to come and carols to hum."

"Bella?"

"Stockings to hang and gorgeous people to bang!"

Winter snorts. "You ruined it."

"You really did," agrees Jessa.

"You guys are boring," says Bella. "I'm going downstairs."

Her sisters each wave at her playfully as Bella gets up off the bed. As she's walking down the hall, she hears a muffled thump and an indignant Winter saying 'ow!' as though Jessa had pushed her out of bed. Shaking her head, happy to be home, Bella makes her way to the kitchen and sees a few of her younger siblings mulling around.

"Dublin and I are picking out music!" Emilie says matter-of-factly.

"Fine with me," Bella says.

"And I'm going up to the attic to find the stockings," says Isla.

"Bring tissues. It's dusty."

"Got it covered."

"Okay," Bella says, "DC, do you want to make cookie icing?"

"I'd love to," Darien says, "Anything specific?"

"Red, green, and white. Otherwise you've got free rein."

"Cool."

"Ry, what do you want to do?" asks Bella.

"Oreo cookie truffles!" he says immediately.

"Oh, good idea! Atty, can you help me with the pizzelles?" Bella says.

Atticus agrees, smiling a big, gummy smile, pleased to be helpful. Bella ties on her favorite apron (the one that looks like a Rsvenclaw house robe) and finds her baby brother an old t-shirt of their dad's. She helps him slip it over his head, finds him a stool, and they get to work on the pizzelles. A treat and tradition that Bella had brought over from Italy, pizzelles are Italian waffle cookies. Her family in Italy used to flavor them with anise, but here with the Andersons, anise isn't a preferred flavor, so Bella uses vanilla instead. Her new adoptive parents had even found her a pizzelle iron when she moved overseas.

"Sugar?" Atticus says, bringing Bella back to reality.

"Oh, right. Yes, we need sugar. One cup and a half cup. Can you bring me them, Atty? The half cup has a number one and then a little slash and the number two."

"Okay," says Atty.

Atticus is three-years-old and for some reason, is very good with numbers. His favorite birthday present he had gotten was a tape measure. He plays with it constantly, measuring (or trying to) himself at least twice a day. Sometimes he'll make his various family members write down what he's measured. Bella's mum is positive he's going to be an engineer.

"Here Bella!" Atty says, handing his big sister the cups.

Bella turns off the beater, tests the eggs, and takes the measuring cups from Atticus. She checks to make sure he grabbed the right ones. A futile move, seeing as he always did.

"Thanks. Do you want to do it?"

Atty nods vigorously, grabbing the sugar container. With a determined look on his tiny face, he begins scooping little spoonfuls of sugar into the cups. It'll probably take him forever, but that's Atticus. Meticulous to a fault, even at age three.

"Are you guys excited to see Auntie Regan tonight?" says Bella to the room.

"Yeah!" Ryder says, "She'll let us watch Elf and drink hot cocoa with marshmallows!"

"And eat cookies!" Darien adds.

"And peanut brittle!"

"And fudge!"

All of Bella's little siblings go spend Christmas Eve with their Aunt Regan, who lives about twenty minutes from Aberdeen and Forden. She isn't any of the kids' biological aunt. Bella's dad Rob had met her when he saved her from a nasty poltergeist nine years ago and ever since then, Regan has been one of the family. Bella thinks she's incredibly brave to be able to put up with six kids under the age of 16 _**and**_ give them sugar without going mad.

The party that the older kids are getting ready for had been the brainchild of Jessa. It was a Christmas party for hunters; those still young enough to want to enjoy life or those who have parents that are in too deep and can leave for a week without said parents noticing. Both of the Anderson parents had grown up in hunting families, but have different ideas about it. Tricia, Bella's adopted mother, is a maddening hunter-type woman, wanting all of her kids to follow in her footsteps. So far, she's only gotten Jace to really commit, Jessa to about half commit (but part of that may be because of her hunting partner and girlfriend, Gemma), and Bella to commit even less. Bella's father Rob, on the other hand, wants his kids to lead as normal of a life as possible. He teaches them basic stuff like little spells and protection, but it doesn't go much farther than that. If there's a kid in the Anderson family who doesn't want to have anything to do with the life, their parents don't make 'em. There's no moving around, no major weapons training, and the kids aren't allowed to even go near a gun until they're sixteen years old.

Bella thinks they got lucky that way. She hears awful stories about kids who are left orphaned when their parents were sliced up ten ways to Sunday by a vampire. She hears about kids who have parents that force them to shoot monsters when they're just Ryder's age. She hears about kids who have never attended a school for longer than a month because they constantly have to be on the move. Hunting is not an easy life for anybody, but for kids it's just fucking torture.

* * *

 **You all know what's coming up next! Thanks for reading loves. :) (And if you don't know the song, have you ever even listened to a Christmas station? Because, really. I hear it all the time around the holidays.)**


	12. All I Want for Christmas is You

**This contains sexsexsexsex and guess what? Rochester sex! And fluff too, I suppose.**

* * *

 _"I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is you."_

 _ **December 24, 2008**_

"I hate Christmas," Dean mumbles to Sam. "I hate parties. And it's fuckin' freezing out here."

"Dude, would you just chill?"

"I am. Literally. My nose is numb."

Sam makes a sound of extreme impatience directed at his brother.

"Not what I meant. Look, you promised we'd celebrate Christmas this year, dude. And Jace just so happened to be at the right time at the right place."

"I don't want to talk to people though. I want to be at a bar hooking up with bar wenches who have daddy issues."

"Jesus Christ, Dean," Sam looks offended.

"And what kind of hunters live in a house this nice?" Dean continues on his roll, "It has a fuckin' front porch!"

"Dean-"

"And look! Is that a goddamn garden?"

"It's winter. Shit's dead."

"That's not the point, it's the principle of the thing, Sammy. Who do you know in our career than stays in one place long enough to have a fuckin' garden?"

"Bobby has his own place," Sam points out. "Look man, just try to be civil."

"I should warn you, I'm gonna get really drunk tonight. And that may include loud sex back in the Impala," says Dean.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," answers Sam, pressing the doorbell.

Dean shivers in his coat as he listens for any noise behind the door (is the doorbell playing a fucking song? Where the hell is he right now? Oh, if Dean gets offered that duck liver shit, he's gone...) and the lock finally clicks. A rush of warm air hits his face as he hears the tail end of a sentence. A hypnotizing laugh has Dean bringing his eyes up to the person in the house and he wants to go running for the hills. It's Bella.

"Bella!" Sam says happily. "Is this your house?"

"It is," says Bella. "You guys must be Jace's buddies, I take it?"

"We are."

"Lovely. Come on in. You look frozen."

Dean follows Sam and steps into the house, grateful for the heat. Bella takes Sam's coat from him and turns away to hang it in the closet long enough for Dean to not so subtly check her out. She's wearing another black dress, this one with long sleeves. It's short as hell and Dean licks his lips as he roves his eyes up and down her long legs. With the heels she's wearing, she looks positively dangerous and Dean licks his lips unconsciously, his mind swirling with dirty thoughts. He is going to be in big fucking trouble tonight.

"-And we finally killed the bastard!" Sam says.

Dean blinks, bringing himself back to the present. He shuffles around, trying to look as though he hadn't been zoning out and imagining Bella's thighs hovering over his face for the past three minutes.

"Fucking shifters, dude," Bella says sympathetically.

"I know. He was an asshole," Sam turns half around to look at Dean, "Dean, your coat?"

"Oh, yeah," he fumbles around. "Here."

"Thank you," Bella says, finding a hanger.

She sets Dean's leather jacket in the closet and catches his gaze. A slow smile begins at the corners of her pretty red lips and Dean clears his throat.

"Winchester. Merry Christmas," says Bella.

"Rossi," he says. "You too."

Sam elbows Dean hard, causing Dean to almost wince. He glares at Sam, who waves to some invisible person that Dean can't see.

"Kenneth!" Sam yells.

Quickly, he hustles away and Dean is left alone with Bella.

"Who's Kenneth?" Bella asks.

"I have no fuckin' clue," mutters Dean.

He feels slightly uncomfortable around Bella. Maybe it's his instincts telling him that she's dangerous. More than likely though it's the knowledge that he's been having sexy dreams about her ever since Halloween. And the fact that she looks so perfectly bang-able tonight. She catches Dean's eye and her own green ones seem to get darker underneath the light.

"Do you want a drink?" Bella asks.

Dean exhales. "A drink would be awesome."

"Okay."

Dean feels small fingers tangle themselves in his and then Bella's leading him through this goddamn castle. He can't figure out what to settle his eyes on. There's so many things to look at. Dean's never seen a house this big and it makes him dizzy. It's odd seeing Bella in a place like this, because this house looks like the type to hold fancy auctions with tiny flutes of expensive champagne. And Bella on the other hand, looks like she'd be better suited to be a centerfold in a SuicideGirls page. She stops in front of an honest-to-god in-house bar, complete with tall bar chairs and a huge wall of booze. Dean's mouth waters at the sight of it all. He takes a seat on a chair and watches as Bella leaps on top of the bar, scooting herself across the glossed wood to the other side. Dean swallows nervously as her dress rides up her thighs, letting him get a glimpse of something red and satiny.

"What will you have?" she asks him.

"Just a whiskey. Neat."

"A Rebel Soldier, coming up."

Dean grins. "You know your terms."

"I bar-tend at the dance place Toronto," says Bella, sliding him a glass of amber liquid. "You have to know your slang to work at a bar. And you have to be able to understand slurred speech."

"What do you do to the scuzz-balls that hit you on the ass as you walk past?" Dean says, taking a swallow of his drink.

"I stab a metal swizzle stick up their nose," Bella says, taking a dainty sip of her own frilly looking, orange drink.

She shoots him a teasing grin, her eyes snapping smartly. Dean smirks in return.

"Guess I better make sure not to do that then," he remarks.

"Best not to."

Bella lifts her drink to her mouth and Dean doesn't miss the way her gaze dances all over his figure. He narrows his eyes at her imperceptibly, regarding her too. It's a dance he's done before with more women than he cares to count. But it seems different with Bella. He likes it more than he normally does.

"We should make a toast," she says.

Dean drags his eyes from her chest to her face. She quirks an eyebrow at him.

"To what?"

"To... Family."

"All right, sweetheart. To family," says Dean, clinking his glass with hers.

He finishes his whiskey and sets the empty glass on the bar at the same time that Bella does.

"Got a lot of freckles," she says, licking her lips.

Dean blinks. "Yeah?"

"Even got a few on little dean, I noticed."

He all but chokes. "Uh, I guess so."

She laughs and leans over the bar to catch his fingers in hers. Dean absentmindedly strokes his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Nice nail polish," he remarks.

Bella regards them. "Thanks. It took me forever to do the snowflakes. I've probably got smears of black all over my carpet because I kept having to rip these fucking gold stickers off and put them on again. Never again."

"Not worth it?" he says, half grinning.

She bobs her head. "Nope. I'm sticking to one color only from now on."

"That's good. I like you in all black," Dean grins wider. "The cherry on top's gotta be your red lips though."

"Well, it is Christmas. Can't look like I'm going to a funeral, can I?"

"Probably not the best idea."

Bella takes the last little bit of her drink. "Sam seems to be far away. Do you think he'd mind if we went upstairs?"

"Sam can deal," Dean's voice is a low rumble.

"Good."

Bella hops over the bar again and Dean takes her hand.

"Show me the way, kitten."

She makes a little scoffing noise, rolling her eyes. "Fuck off."

They weave back through the mingling crowd and the huge house until they're back by the front door and the staircase. Dean lets Bella go up first, not because it's her house, but because he has a great fucking view of her ass. He licks his lips again and leans forward to just...grab...it. Dean almost falls on his face as they reach the top of the stairs.

"Watch where you're going," teases Bella, seeming to know what had him distracted. "That last step is a doozy."

"This your room?" Dean says, trying to gather his wits again.

"Sure is. I share a room with my sisters Winter and Jessa. At least, I used to when we all lived at home."

"How long did the door take?" asks Dean.

From top to bottom, the door leading to Bella's bedroom is covered in various stickers and decals. All lyrics and bands.

"You like The Ramones?" asks Dean in disgust.

Bella's jaw drops. "Of course I like The Ramones! Punk's not dead!"

"It's not really...still **_alive_** though, Bells."

"Says the guy who likes '80's hair bands."

"Metallica ain't a hair band."

"It's noise, is what it is."

"And what is punk then?"

"Punk is a movement, Winchester. It calls out the bullshit in the world!"

"What? Are you kiddin'? Can't even understand the lyrics and you're tellin' me that shit's deep?"

"Of course. The Pistols sing about abortion. The Clash sing about police brutality. And The Ramones? Tell me "I Wanna Be Sedated" doesn't make you want to smoke a bowl and ponder the meaning of life? Tell me right now."

"Smoke a bowl, huh? Do that often?"

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"So what other music do you like?" says Dean, purposely changing the subject just to annoy her. "I'm seeing The Who, The Beatles, The Stones, The Doors. What else?"

Bella shrugs. "I have this thing for Bob Dylan actually. But the only person in my family besides me who can stand him is my dad."

"Bob Dylan? Like folk singer Bob Dylan?"

"Mhmm. He's just- his music opens your eyes. Things in the world aren't equal. His words are real, you know?"

Dean snorts. "And just when I was startin' to like you, you go all 'pretentious-hipster-majoring-in-Comp-Lit' on me, Rossi."

"Shut up," she replies, shoving Dean playfully. "Dylan was the voice of a generation."

"Oh, what else are you gonna tell me? Taylor Swift is 'an inspiration?'"

Bella's cheeks turn red and Dean laughs at her.

"Taylor Swift? You're fuckin' kiddin'?"

"Yeah well, AC/DC sings about porn," Bella says, crossing her arms and Dean can almost hear the 'so there!'

"You sure you're a hunter?" says Dean. "With music taste like that?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Bella mumbles.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, got one good thing going for you," Dean says suddenly. "Zepp."

"I mean, "The Rain Song" _**was**_ the first English song I learned to sing. Along with "Hey Jude," but that's almost a given, yeah?"

"There may be hope for you yet," replies Dean.

Bella opens her mouth to protest and she goes to shove him on the shoulder again. Dean catches her hands in his and curves his lips up in a winning Winchester smirk.

"Not that I don't love giving you all kinds of shit, but Christ," he runs his nose across her cheek. "I've been wanting to kiss you the minute I walked in the door, baby."

"You've only had one glass of whiskey and already you're making moves? You got some balls there, kid."

"Blue balls if I don't get you naked soon," he hints.

Bella laughs and Dean finally realizes why he loves that noise so fucking much. It reminds him of dinners in the Winchester household when he was a kid. Sitting down to his mom's pie and listening to his dad tell a story about work that, at age four, Dean didn't really understand, but seeing how it made his mom laugh, it made Dean laugh too. Bella's laugh makes a warm, heady glow settle deep into Dean's chest. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her flush against his chest. Sonofabitch, she's just all soft, with the perfect amount of curve for Dean to grab onto. Bella leans up on her toes to brush a gentle kiss to his mouth and Dean curls his hand possessively around the back of her neck. Something in him, something primal, sparks to life inside him as their lips meet over and over. He holds himself back, waiting for Bella to initiate something more. Dean doesn't have to wait long as she leaps off the floor and tangles herself around him. He tucks his hands under her ass, groaning when he gets two good handfuls. Bella just kisses him harder, tugging at his hair and making Dean growl deep in his chest.

"Camera da letto," Bella manages. "Letto, letto."

"Bells, I don't speak Italian," Dean reminds her, grinning against her mouth.

"Sorry, sorry. Bedroom. Bed. Now."

"Yes ma'am," says Dean, pleased.

He edges the door open with his hip and finding the closest bed, sprawls out on it with Bella on top of him.

"Good thing you picked the right bed," she remarks, sitting up on her knees to slide her dress over her head. "What are you staring at?"

"That James Dean poster above your bed," Dean says. "He's checkin' me out."

"I like it when he watches."

Dean almost chokes again. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. He's the ultimate," she explains. "A leather jacket toting, casually smoking, greased back hair, bad boy."

"Like the bad ones, do you?"

"Very much."

"Not to brag, but I've been wanted for murder a few times."

Bella rolls her eyes. "If there's a way to do this, that definitely wasn't it."

"C'mon, sweetheart," Dean prods. "You don't think I'm a bad boy?"

"I suppose you could be. If I wanted you too."

"And do you want to?"

She nods. "Essere mio cattivo ragazzo."

"Huh?"

Bella leans over Dean, her hands edging under his shirt.

"Be my bad boy. Hmm? For tonight at least."

"That," says Dean lowly. "Is somethin' I can definitely do. Now, c'mere."

She scoots farther up Dean's torso, inching her knees along his sides. Once he can reach her, he takes hold of her dress and just to tease her (or maybe himself) he slowly pushes it up her body. Smooth skin, marred with just a few remnants of scars and with a smell of vanilla and berries, is revealed and Dean swallows heavily when her dress lands on the floor. Bella stares down at him in nothing but a red bra, matching panties, and those dangerous heels.

"You match," he remarks, amused, his hands finding a home on her hipbones.

"What, you think I'd wear my lacy cat undies under this dress?"

Dean puts on his playful smirk. "So you're tellin' me that you've got a pair of pretty pussies to cover your own pretty-"

His voice is muffled as Bella clamps her hand down on Dean's mouth.

"I hate that word."

"Do you?" says Dean conversationally.

He takes one of his hands and roves it downward, cupping Bella through the satin around her hips. She's warm, so **_fucking_** warm, and Dean lets out a little groan.

"Dean," Bella warbles and he looks up to see wide green eyes.

"What?"

She whimpers, trying to move closer to his hand.

"Use your words. Gotta tell me. I can give it to you. Anything you want, baby. Just gotta say the word."

"Please!"

He smirks teasingly. "Not what I meant."

"Fucking hell, Dean! Please just finger me already, you ass!"

"Close enough."

He wiggles a finger under her waistband and Bella sighs, almost collapsing forward. Dean lets out a strangled chuckle and flips them around so Bella is laying on the bed with Dean over her.

"More?" he asks, eyes burning.

"Yes," says Bella. "God. Yes."

Dean obliges and then leans down to capture her lips with his. He clamps his mouth around her lower lip and tugs it through his teeth. Bella lets out a moan into his mouth, squirming. Trailing his mouth down her cheek, Dean can feel her on his fingers and he growls as Bella gets more worked up, shaking her head from side to side. He holds her down, trapped to the mattress.

"Hold still for me, baby. Hold still and I promise I'll make you come."

"Dean," says Bella softly.

He groans in response. "Say it again."

"Dean."

He feels dizzy. "Again. Say my name again."

"Dean."

"Again."

"Dean!" Bella says louder.

"Sonofabitch, Bells," says Dean in return.

Bella lets out a small whimper and grabs Dean's face, mashing their lips together as she cries out into his mouth. He can fucking hear her screams vibrating in his brain and though he so wants to hear them aloud, it's better this way, lest someone runs up here with a gun in hand thinking someone is getting murdered. Bella relaxes in his arms, but Dean keeps his fingers where they are and finds her ear.

"One more," he says a little weakly. "One more for me, pretty girl."

She laughs in anticipation and pinches her eyes closed. This time, Dean watches her face contort and her back arches off the bed. A loud cry of his name erupts from Bella's lips and Dean gleams in pride. As soon as she goes boneless underneath him, Bella covers her face with her hands.

"Christ you're fuckin' gorgeous when you come," Dean lets out a breath. "I must be the luckiest bastard in the world. To see you again."

She smiles tenderly and places her hand on Dean's cheek, running her thumb across his lip. He smiles down at her and presses a small kiss to her finger. Bella sits up then, her hands moving to Dean's shirt. She lifts it over his head carefully and throws it to the floor. Dean, in turn, takes the straps of her bra off her shoulders, unclips the back, and lets the whole thing land in his hands.

"Prettiest witch I've ever seen," says Dean, grinning.

Bella laughs. "First time you've ever said that, I bet."

"It was."

"And you thought you'd never say that, I bet. Right?"

"Can't say I ever would have, sweetheart."

"Well," says Bella, tapping Dean's nipple. "Been proven wrong, haven't you?"

"Normally I wouldn't admit it, but yeah. You proved me wrong. And shit, I've never been happier to be wrong."

Bella lies down on the pillows again, looking for all intents and purposes like some fucking moon goddess spread out only for Dean. It's a fitting description as the stars shine brightly through the window, lighting up her face. She smiles that blindly white smile and crooks a finger at him.

"Are you going to take your jeans off, or are you planning to go all Nestene on me to make me come again?"

"Doctor Who?" says Dean, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out one of the many Trojans that he keeps on his person at all times.

"Wow, I'm surprised you got that reference."

"Used to watch old reruns when Dad was out hunting and the two of us were stuck in the hotel. Although, Nestenes control plastic, so if you owned a vibrator, then maybe I _**could**_ do it."

"Ooo, you're good."

He grins. "Ask me anything about Doctor Who and Batman, I dare you."

"Dean?" Bella says, her gaze on his dick.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I want to have you fuck me against the wall. That cool?"

She says it so flippantly that Dean has to look down at her for a minute to process what she'd said. He gets the message loud and clear when Bella raises her eyebrows.

"You're gonna kill me," says Dean, gathering her up in his arms again. "You're actually fuckin' killin' me. I'm gonna die. Right now."

Shuffling over to the closest wall he can find (because, c'mon, after that, Dean can't afford to wait anymore. He **_needs_** to be inside her so fucking badly that he's gnashing his teeth) and presses Bella against it. She starts trying to grind on any bit of Dean that she can reach and Dean groans again. Just like that fucking dream, holy shit.

"Mmm," hums Bella. "I told you little dean has freckles. I like it."

"I'm glad my genitals meet your approval," says Dean as he moves to push his hips up.

As soon as he does, Bella purrs his name.

"They definitely meet my approval."

Dean grunts in response, unable to move in fear of ending things before they even starts. Bella is so mind-numbingly warm that he can't breath. Soft everywhere he needs her to be and figure-hugging exactly where he needs it the most. Screw dreams, who needs 'em? Dean wants the real fucking thing for as long as he can.

"Come on, Dean," Bella urges him gently.

He nods, hoisting her up and pressing harder against her, making sure Bella won't topple to the ground and break his dick off at the same time. Her nails dig into Dean's back as they begin to move faster and Dean groans happily, knowing that he'll have red welts in a few hours. He bites at Bella's neck, suckling at her throat until there's a nice sized bruise where his lips were.

"Dean," whispers Bella, her head tipped back, offering the rest of her throat to him.

"You feel s'good, baby. So fuckin' good, Bells," Dean grumbles in return, nibbling at her neck again.

"More, Dean."

He fights back a shiver. "'S even better than I remember. Better than my dreams. Been dreamin' about you still, you know that? Rememberin' how you look, how you feel."

"Mmm, more," Bella sounds wrecked and it just makes Dean's hips move faster. "Please, Dean."

"Minute I saw you, I wanted you again. You're like a fuckin' drug or somethin', you know that? I can't get enough."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Christ, my kitten's so pretty. And all for me tonight, aren't you?"

Bella whines in response and pushes her high heels into Dean's lower back. Son of a bitch, she's still wearing them. Jesus fuck, he isn't going to last long at all. She whines when Dean shifts, changing up the angle.

"Right there, huh?" he asks.

"Yes. Ah, yes."

"Are you gonna come for me, beautiful?"

"Y-yes."

"Then come."

Bella sighs, tugging at Dean's hair as he feels her start to shake in his arms.

"Jesus Dean," Bella says, drawing out his name, her voice rising higher in pitch. "Oh, porca troia!"

Dean works her through her high, grinning in pride as she keeps bucking up around him. He eventually has to reach his own breaking point and follows Bella's lead, shuddering silently. They stay locked together for a minute, having to catch their breath. Dean brings his eyes to Bella and she laughs happily.

"Fuck, that was good," he says, grinning.

"It always is," Bella answers, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"What were you sayin' before? In Italian?"

"Fucking hell," explains Bella.

"Mmm, say some other things in Italian for me," Dean says, his lips teasing her earlobe.

"Vaffanculo translates to go do it in the ass. But it's used as more of a 'fuck off' kind of thing. And succhiare il cazzo is suck my cock."

"What about asshat?" says Dean, still grinning.

"There isn't a true, literal translation for that. I would probably just say capello culo. Which is hat ass, but you'd still get the point."

"You'll have to teach me this language of yours, Rossi. I'm a sucker for women who can speak other languages."

"Are you?" Bella says, amused. "What do you want your first lesson to be?"

"What's 'kiss me'?" asks Dean.

"Baciami."

"Baciami," he repeats. "Hey, Bells?"

"What?"

"Baciami?"

She rolls her eyes at him, but Dean's too busy gathering her lips up with his own to take notice. Dean growls when Bella pulls his bottom lip with her teeth and he presses against her harder. There's not even enough space between them for a goddamn piece of paper to fit, but still it's not enough. Dean wants Bella closer, to meld into her so he can be inside her for the rest of his fucking life. She's fucking perfection walking and Dean wants that forever.

"Do you want to see something?" says Bella.

Dean nods, resting his forehead on hers.

"Show me."

* * *

 **I SHIP IT! DOES ANYONE ELSE? "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey is our song of the day (SotD) :)**


	13. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Bella and Dean are pretty cute in this one. Just so damn fluffy that it's almost strange.**

* * *

 _"My sister will be suspicious. (Gosh, your lips look delicious.) My brother will be there at the door."_

 _ **December 24, 2008**_

"All right," says Bella. "Come on then."

"Lemme put pants on first," Dean replies.

He sets Bella on the ground and shuffles around, trying to gather up his clothes. Dean finds his boxers and jeans, but his shirt is nowhere to be found. Furrowing his eyebrows, he leans closer to peer at the ground. It doesn't help that his shirt is black, the carpet is a dark blue, and the only light source in the room is from the starlight and strands of white Christmas lights strung up around the windows. Eventually finding his shirt, Dean tugs it on and then takes Bella's red satin panties. He tucks them in his back pocket for later. (Yeah, he has a bit of a fetish...)

"Have you seen my undies?" says Bella. "I swear they were right here a minute ago!"

"I dunno where they went," Dean says innocently.

She narrows her eyes. "Okay, I feel like you did something with them, but I'm not even going to ask."

She tugs her dress farther down her legs and Dean swallows thickly.

"Goin' commando?"

"Why not? It's just us. Right?"

"I guess.

Bella nods. "You ready?"

"Yep."

"All right. Follow me."

She starts walking out of the room, leaving Dean to stumble behind her as he tries to tie his boots and follow after Bella at the same time. There's a second staircase going straight up, where at the top, sits a door. The staircase is narrow and Dean again, gets a perfect view of Bella's ass, made better by the fact that she isn't wearing anything underneath her dress.

"Would you stop staring at my butt?" says Bella, without so much as a glance behind her.

Dean grins. "It's a sin to have an ass that nice, you know. It could get you into trouble."

With another step, they're at the top, standing in front of the door. Bella turns around a bit and gently skims her fingers across Dean's cheek, nibbling at her bottom lip.

"If you're trouble, I'd say it's worth it, hmm?"

Dean tries not to shiver yet again as she turns back around, pushing open the door.

"You ready?" says Bella.

"For what?"

"Elysium."

With a hand in his, Bella yanks him out the door where Dean ends up on an impressive balcony. It's overlooking a backyard and the sky above him is right there, so close that Dean could touch the moon.

"Awesome," he says. "You can see for miles up here."

Bella's fiddling with something and then she puts a small hand rolled cigarette to her lips. She lights the thing with a lighter that matches her hair color almost perfectly and then takes a drag.

"Want a hit?"

Dean nods, taking it from her fingers. He does a hit and exhales it slowly, watching as it dissipates in the cold night air.

"You roll your own shit?" he asks.

"Why would I not?" answers Bella.

She accepts the joint when Dean hands it to her and sticks it in her mouth. Dean kind of grins at how she looks, just holding it between her teeth like some cowboy chewing on a piece of straw. Finally, Bella takes a puff and another one, until the thing is almost gone.

"Don't be greedy," says Dean, affronted.

Bella rolls her eyes and hands it to him. Dean finishes it off with two more hits of his own and then regards the end of it, not sure what to do. He'd always been the bong or bowl type of recreational weed smoker and only smoked a joint once in his life.

"You can eat it," says Bella. "I didn't use a filter or anything."

Dean stubs the flame out on the railing and pops it into his mouth.

"There's the North Star," remarks Bella, pointing upwards.

"Mhmm," Dean hums.

"The last thing my mamma told me before she died was to always look at the North Star and when it blinks, that means she's watching over me."

His brain is feeling float-y as he cranes his neck to look at the stars. Dean's eyes slide to Bella, who seems transfixed as she gazes upwards, seeming to trace the stars into shapes with her fingers. Dean finds himself just staring at her, as though trying to imprint her image into his head. Dream Bella was just that, a dream (Dean's favorite dream, but still) and this Bella, the **_real_** Bella standing next to him is so damn beautiful that he thinks his mind never really has done her justice. She's much more gorgeous and soft in real life than she is in any of his dreams. Dean is losing the battle inside of him as wave after wave of absolute need pulses in his blood the longer he looks at Bella shining under the stars.

"You know how people say that looking up at the stars makes them feel so small, so insignificant?" says Bella, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" says Dean, watching her mouth as she talks.

"When I look at the night sky, I don't feel like that. I feel limitless," she sighs happily. "I feel relaxed and safe."

Dean lets out a scoff. "The stars and moon are so cold. They only mean death and monsters."

"Stars are forever," Bella turns to look him square in the eye. "Have you ever walked in clear starlight? Between the trees as the night's light streams down onto the ground? I've waded in creeks as the water shines dark with the reflection of the moon. I've danced with my coven under the light of the Big Dipper. And it's the most beautiful thing I've ever done."

"Every evil bastard I've fought is most powerful at night."

Which is true. Dean can even list a few right now off the top of his head. Werewolves, of course. Vampires, because there isn't any sunlight, shapeshifters, djinn, wendigos, hellhounds, demons, hell, even those insane sons of bitches who kidnapped people to hunt and kill. And they were fucking human!

"You think too much about hunting, Winchester," Bella sounds disappointed. "Just look up at the sky."

She grabs his chin and forces Dean to stare up into the inky blackness.

"See how some of them blink? Those are all the loved ones you've lost saying that they're watching over you."

Dean points to a dot of light. "That's my mom then."

"That's a good star," muses Bella. "I like it. See, I told you it was Heaven."

"It's Heaven, all right," Dean agrees, staring at her instead of the stars.

Bella snorts. "People don't compliment me like that _**after**_ they've gotten into my pants."

"Why not?"

"Always pick the wrong ones, I guess."

"If it means anythin' comin' from me, those people are douchebags. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

"Why?" says Bella.

Dean wrinkles his forehead. "Why what?"

"You're supposed to want me dead."

"In theory, yeah," he shrugs. "Doesn't mean I believe it much, anymore."

"No?" Bella asks softly.

"No."

She smiles at her feet, an expression that Dean doesn't miss and realizes that he's mirroring.

"Ready to go back inside?" says Bella. "I'm fucking freezing."

"Nah," Dean wraps an arm around her and pulls her into his side. "Let's stay out for a while. I'll keep you warm, baby."

"My legs are going to turn blue and won't you feel guilty when they have to chop them off?" she pouts.

"Shouldn't have worn that dress."

"But you're glad I did."

"Insanely fuckin' glad."

"I'm glad I did too."

Bella wraps an arm around Dean and tucks her hand in his back pocket. He looks down at her, lips quirking up into an amused grin.

"My hand is cold!" she defends.

"Bullshit," teases Dean. "You just wanna touch my ass."

"You wish, Winchester."

"All day, every day, Bells."

She rolls her eyes. "You're insufferable."

"I think I'm very endearing," replies Dean, tugging her closer to him as another shiver wracks through Bella's body.

"Oh, and so modest too!"

Dean blinks, thinking quickly. With no comeback in sight, he does the next best thing; a move he learned at the age of six. If you don't have a good comeback, mock them.

"Oh, and so modest too!" he trills in a very fake, very exaggerated Italian accent.

"Jesus, I do **_not_** sound like that," says Bella, scowling.

"I do _**not**_ sound like that," Dean parrots.

"Dean!"

"Dean!"

"God, quit it, would you?"

"Quit it, would you?"

"Stop!"

"Stop!"

Bella huffs, her face a little pink. Dean leans down close to her and grins, egging her on. Her eyes narrow and she places her hands on his shoulders. Dean, expecting a move like this, locks all his muscles so that when Bella goes to push him, he doesn't even move. She tries again and again, each time getting more and more frustrated with him. She's kind of cute like this, a petulant child-like way about her.

"You're"-shove- "Like" -shove- "A fucking" -shove- "Brick" -shove- "Wall" -shove- "Damn it."

After her eight attempts at trying to knock him over, Dean grabs her wrists and hold them above his head.

"You're pretty cute," he says.

"I can kill you, you know."

"Cute and deadly," says Dean. "An awesome combination for a chick."

Bella opens her mouth for a biting retort and Dean waits eagerly to hear it. Yeah, she's sarcastic to a fault and doesn't take his crap. Dean may keep her. Before the words fall from her lips however, Bella shivers so violently that she knocks the top of her head into Dean's chin. He gets alarmed and does the only thing he can think of. Scooping Bella up in his arms, Dean sits down in one of the chairs and holds her pressed against him. She burrows into his side, grateful for the heat. Dean is sure that if Bella were a cat, she'd be doing that weird thing that cats do where they push their paws into peoples' laps, alternating feet and scratching up their owner's' skin.

"Is this better?" he asks, stroking her upper thigh with his thumb.

He hasn't taken his eyes off her legs. He's starting to think he has a thing for high heeled shoes too. Especially the ankle breaking, four inch tall ones that Bella always seems to wear. The ones she has on tonight are silver, covered in glitter. They're stripper heels, Dean thinks, but they look amazing on her. And they felt amazing when they were digging into his back not thirty minutes ago.

She nods. "Yes. Thanks."

"Good," says Dean. "Now tell me about the stars."

"Okay," Bella answers happily. "So, look there. That's Orion. The hunter."

She takes Dean's finger in hers and leads both upwards until they're pointing at a cluster of stars. She traces the outline of Orion with both of their fingers and Dean tries to imagine it.

"The really bright star is Betelgeuse and south of the belt is the Orion Nebula. Can you see it? That kind of fuzzy looking thing?"

Bella moves their fingers again and draws a circle around what Dean assumes to be is the nebula. To be honest, Dean can barely even find the goddamn moon in the sky half the time. But he likes how happy, how **_animated_** Bella seems to be looking up at the stars. She looks as if she's glowing and Dean is fucking awed. She's just so fucking beautiful and it would make Dean feel sick if he wasn't still a little blitzed from that joint.

"Any others?" he says, his eyes not on the sky, but on Bella. Always Bella (at least it seems that way tonight.)

"In January, you'll be able to see Orion even better. And in February, there's Gemini. Ooo, and that one?" Bella traces another pattern out. "See, that one there? That's Eridanus. It's called the Celestial River. Can you see it?"

Dean nods, because yeah, shockingly he can. It runs east to south across the dark sky and the first star sits right near another really bright star.

"What's that bright one?" says Dean.

"Rigel. From Orion," explains Bella, excited that he can see it.

"How do you know so much about the sky?"

"Natural borns learn the moon phases very young. It's almost an innate skill that we have. The different phases of the moon are used for different things. Charging crystals, doing certain magic, stuff like that. Constellations on the other hand, I've been loving for a long time. The night sky is just so beautiful to me. I love the moon, the stars, even the heavy clouds some days. It's clean, it's renewing. It makes me feel like I can fly. Move the stars around so I can fly back home to my family."

"How'd they die?" says Dean.

"Tracy."

"Tracy, as in Samhain's Tracy?"

"Yeah," says Bella. "She was my great aunt. My great grandma's sister who wasn't a natural born. So obviously she was jealous and sold her soul to Samhain six hundred years ago for the same magic. But demonic magic is different than natural born magic. It's not as powerful, for one. And it's harder to control. It makes a person immortal, but it eats away at their soul. Darkens them. And the demon benefits too. They're able to sort of meld themselves with their demonic witch-slave. They imprint on each other. You know, like how ducklings decide that the first thing they see as soon as they hatch are their mother? That's kind of what happens to demonic witches and their demons. Only it's more sickly, devoted sexual fantasies and fucked up love."

"So great grandma Rossi was a natural born?" Dean says.

"She was. She and Tracy were born in like the 15th century. They were part of a group of Celts in Ireland."

"So during the whole witch crisis then? And they escaped the stake?"

"Right. They never caught them. True witches with **_actual_** power, natural born or demonic, know how to cloak themselves from hunters and priests. The ones the church would kill weren't witches at all, just people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was so terrible."

"But if they were born in the 15th century, how'd your great grandma have a family line endin' with you? Unless you're actually three hundred years old..."

Dean's eyes grow as he stares down at Bella. Fuck, she's not really a billion years old, is she? Oh, that's just sick to trick a guy like that! Looking like you're a pretty young thing and really having insides that are shriveled up and black? Gross, he **_touched_** that... Uggh.

"Since Tracy sold her soul to a demon for her magic, that magic was a demonic magic and made her immortal. My great grandma, on the other hand, lived naturally until the 1700's before old age caught up with her. She didn't want to die though. She wanted to watch out for her little sister. She did all the life prolonging spells and blood magic that she could," explains Bella.

Dean nearly collapses with relief.

"Anyway, great grandma married my great grandpa in 1924 and my grandma was born in 1933. Their family moved to America where Granny Kyna met Nonno Arturo. And after World War II was over, he whisked her off to Italy. They had my mum in 1959. And then Mamma met Babbo in Italy when she was twenty-five and they got married almost immediately. A few years later, I was born."

"Oh, thank god," Dean says.

"You actually though I was three hundred years old?" Bella teases. "That's fucking disturbing."

"You're tellin' me."

She laughs at him, throwing her head back and letting the sound echo outwards into the sky. Dean gets that heady feeling again and he leans forward, pressing his lips to Bella's throat. A little squeaky noise leaves her mouth and Dean grins against her, leaving gentle suckles on her neck all the while enjoying Bella's purrs.

"You make such pretty noises, Bells," remarks Dean.

"Can we go back inside?" asks Bella in return.

Dean hums his agreement on Bella's left shoulder and stands up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. She's relatively light and Dean totally doesn't mind carrying her around like this. Not when he has this constant access to any part of her body that his mouth can reach. Not when she's cooing her pleasure in his ear and tugging on his hair. The door closes with a gentle swoosh and Dean heads carefully down the staircase with Bella leaning her head on his shoulder and returning the favor by pressing her own little kisses to the side of his neck.

"Hey, you didn't tell me you had another tattoo," she muses, tracing a fingernail across the words that run down the side of Dean's neck.

It had happened as a result of a late night bout of drinking. The day after Sam had left for Stanford, Dean found himself alone (Dad had taken a solo hunt) with two bottles of unopened Jim Beam. As soon as one bottle was drained and the second one was two-thirds full, Dean had gotten bored in the hotel room and decided to take a late night stroll. He had ended up halfway sober and standing in front of a tattoo parlor. On a whim, he strode into the place with no idea in mind and a credit card under the name of Peter St. James in his back pocket. The tattoo artist was creepy, the floors were a little dirty, and before Dean could even really think, he'd walked out of there with a fresh tattoo, inked in black and dancing down the right side of his neck and ending on the side of his shoulder.

"You're waiting for someone to perform with," reads Bella. "I love it."

"Lotta girls don't get to see it," Dean says, feeling oddly relieved that she likes it so much.

"Don't carry a lot of girls around, do you?"

He can hear the amused and superior way that she says it.

"Not that often. But then again, most of 'em I don't worry about gettin' frostbite."

"Oh, you worry about me, Winchester?"

"I worry about what your family would do to me if their daughter's legs had to be chopped off because she was sittin' in the freezing cold Canadian weather with a guy who did nothin' to rescue her."

"Mm, all right. I'll take it."

Dean uses his hip to push the bedroom door open and sets Bella back down on her bed. She pats the space next to her and he joins her, leaning against the wooden headboard.

"How old were you when you got that tongue piercing?" Dean asks.

Bella lets out a soft laugh. "I was sixteen. It bled for awhile and crushed ice became my best friend. But it's great for giving oral. Makes people go crazy."

"Really?" muses Dean, his fingers tangling through her hair. "How interestin'."

She leans closer to him. "Okay, my turn."

"Your turn?"

"To ask you a probing sexual question. How old were you when you first had sex?"

"Erm, sixteen, I think? You?"

"Fifteen," Bella shrugs. "It was nothing extraordinary."

"It wasn't?" says Dean.

"Not in the slightest, dude."

"That sucks ass."

"I know, right?" she sighs dramatically. "Welcome to the sad, sexual escapades of Isabella Rossi. Not to mention that- well, hmm, best save that tidbit for another time."

"What?" says Dean, curious.

"It's nothing."

"What?" he repeats, a smirk finding its way onto his face. "You got a secret kinky side or somethin', Bells?"

"Like I'm going to tell you, Winchester."

"Will you?"

"That's very unlikely."

"How 'bout this then?" Dean tries. "One for one."

"You're kinky?" Bella says, doubtfully. "All right, deal."

"So, there was this girl, Rhoda, right?" Dean starts. "Insanely hot chick. We were nineteen and she'd just gotten her parents to agree to a boob job. Basically, they weren't real, not that I was complainin'. We were gettin' into it and she tells me to try on her panties."

"Wait, seriously? And did you?"

"Well, yeah..."

Dean is momentarily startled when Bella bursts out laughing. She laughs so loudly that Dean is sure people are going to hear and soon, there will be a crowd gathered in the bedroom who know Dean Winchester has worn panties. An ungraceful snort leaves Bella and Dean glowers at her.

"Would you shut up?"

"What," Bella wipes her eye, "What color were they?"

"Pink, all right!" Dean snaps grouchily. "Pink and satin-y!"

"That is the best fucking thing I've ever heard!" she croons gleefully.

"Shit, I wouldn't have told you if I knew you'd be mockin' me."

"It's funny!"

"Christ, would you just stuff it?" Dean makes a face. "Fuck this, I'm outta here."

Bella rolls her eyes. "Dean, come on. Don't be a drama queen."

"What did you just call me?"

"You're the one who told me. It's not like I forced you or something. Here, I'll go if you sit back down."

The curiosity to find out about Bella's kinky side overwhelms Dean's embarrassment and he flops back down onto the bed next to her. He gestures to her as if saying 'go on.'

"I'm a bit of a domme," she says, picking at a fingernail. "And a sub."

"What do you mean by a bit?"

"It means that most people don't want to be dominated by a girl who barely hits 5'4". They usually laugh in my face, so I never really talk about it anymore."

"You must be screaming out to be a domme then," says Dean.

He's mentally dancing around in celebration. Dean knew poor Bella had a dominating side the very first time they'd ever met. Constantly pushy, didn't fall hard and fast for his lines, and pushed him around a little bit, making him sweat out his boner in the Impala. Oh yeah, she isn't a classic textbook dominatrix, but Bella definitely has some awesome potential. Dean feels a little sorry for her that she's never really gotten to test that side of herself out.

"Just let me know when you want to and I can accommodate that request," he finds himself adding.

"Are you serious right now?"

"I'm dead serious. You can dominate me anytime. I mean, shit. Guys do not know how lucky they are when they stumble upon a rare female willing to be a switch. You're a rare one, Bella Rossi."

"Ah, so you're a switch too, are you?" Bella says, delight sparkling in her eyes.

"Definitely," Dean grins. "Lucky we found each other, huh?"

"Very lucky. Thank the goddesses."

"What goddesses?"

"It's what we say instead of thank god."

"I like it. Fits you better somehow."

Bella laughs. "Just a witch thing."

"By the way, will you show me how you can pole dance sometime?"

"Only if you let me pick the song, Winchester."

"Sounds fair."

Dean extends his arms over his head, and falls down flat on Bella's bed. He holds out his arms and gestures with a crook of a finger for Bella to join him. She crawls up next to Dean and curls herself into his side. He grins a crooked grin, liking this. Maybe he could get used to this whole cuddling thing, especially with Bella. She tangles her legs around one of his, her now bare feet pressing against Dean's shin.

"God, your feet are freezin'," he says.

"Ah fuck, sorry," says Bella. "They always seem to be. And my fingers."

"That's a sign of bad circulation."

"Thanks Dr. Phil."

"Wouldn't it be Dr. Oz?" Dean says.

"Whoever the fuck tells his studio audience whether or not his guest has Spanish flu," Bella replies. "Hell if I knew."

She burrows herself closer to Dean. Absentmindedly, he finds himself running his fingers through her soft curls.

"That feels nice," Bella says softly.

Dean heaves a heavy sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. He turns his head to grab Bella up in another kiss, but finds her seemingly dozing. Her lips are parted, the red color now completely rubbed off and Dean blinks in wonder. He carefully pulls his shirt down and grins in triumph as he sees red lipstick prints marking his chest. And though he can't see them, he's now sure that there are some on his neck too.

"Thanks, beautiful," says Dean softly, before sleep claims him too.

Dean is woken up what seems to be only mere seconds later to the sounds of hushed arguing.

"-Do you know what he does to girls, Jingle Bells? Who he's been with?" says an angry voice.

"Sam?" Dean mumbles, confused.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" says the voice. "Sleeping with my fucking sister?"

"Jace!" Dean recognizes Bella's voice and sits himself up, reaching for her. "Leave it alone!"

She's angry, Dean can tell. Her muscles are tense and all Dean wants to do in his tired haze is massage the knots right out of her shoulders until she's purring for him.

"And why should I?" Jace snaps before rounding on Dean. "You better get the fuck outta here before I kill you."

"Dude, Jace, chill. Bella's a big girl. She can take care of herself," Dean says.

Jace lets out a snort. "No, she's hardly out of high school."

"Jace..." starts Bella.

"She's barely twenty and you fuck her?"

Dean feels as Bella slumps down in defeat.

"What?" he says.

"She's barely twenty and you fuck her?" Jace repeats. "That's just so fucking wrong."

A few beads of sweat break out over Dean's forehead. Is Jace serious? Is Bella really only twenty? God, she's so much more... experienced than Dean was when he was twenty. Or maybe he had taken advantage of her and she was just playing it up for the cameras. Oh Christ, that's it. Dean feels a little nauseous.

"Bells?" he says quietly. "Are you really?"

She barely even spares him a glance. "Yes."

"Just turned twenty this past June," Jace adds.

"Seriously, J, you're not fucking helping," snaps Bella. "Like at all."

Dean runs his hands through his hair.

"Son of a bitch."

He can barely focus on the resumed argument between the two siblings as his head swirls with thoughts. Bella's so young. She's a fucking baby. Too young to be caught up in his shitty monster filled world. She still has a chance at living a normal (albeit witchy) life! Dean can't drag her in, can't expect her to need someone like him dragging her down. He's lived three times as much as she has. Seen more evil. He can't. He can't do this to her. He won't. Clean break. Gotta make it a clean break. Just say 'Bella, we can't do this anymore. See ya.'

"Dean?" says Bella.

He looks up from the floor to see that Jace is gone, leaving him alone with Bella. She's still looking so goddamn gorgeous and Dean has to fight back the urge to run his fingers across her face.

"You were drinking," he stammers. "At the bar that night when we hooked up, you were drinkin' vodka."

"Fake ID," she says.

Dean snorts in disbelief.

"YOU'RE ONLY TWENTY YEARS OLD?!"

Bella nods meekly.

"You know I'm almost thirty, right?" he asks.

"Does it bother you?"

"Frankly, yeah. It bothers the hell out of me. Why didn't you say anything?!"

She sighs, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "I thought it wouldn't matter."

"Most twenty year olds don't look as fuckin' mouth-watering as you do! You're a kid!" Dean groans. "A friggin' baby!"

"Jesus Christ!" says Bella loudly. "If we lived a hundred years ago, I would have been married to a fifty year old with five kids already!"

"Christ, your parents are gonna cry rape. I may end up on a sex offender's website!"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, you asshat! Jesus fuck."

"Fuck you, Rossi!"

"It's not like I'm underage! Why does it matter?"

Why does it matter? Because Dean wants her. Christ, he wants her so fucking much that it hurts. But he can't. Can't ruin her. He would never be able to live with himself if he stayed. Twenty years old is still young enough to have a full life. Dean wants that for Bella. To live a life where she can just worship her goddesses and dance naked around fires. Where she doesn't have to worry about monsters killing her in her sleep or demons constantly wanting her entrails for their hellhounds.

"You know what, fine! If it bothers you so much, why don't you just go?" cries Bella.

"Maybe I should," grunts Dean, climbing off of her bed.

"Good! Just fucking leave, Winchester!"

"I'm gone!"

The door to Bella's bedroom slams behind Dean. He goes for the stairs but not before hearing Bella shout one more thing.

"God, I _**never** _ want to see you again!"

Her voice trails off and he hears a soft little sniff. Dean pinches his eyes closed and, trying to ignore his feelings, rushes down the stairs to find Sam.

* * *

 **Our SotD is "Baby, It's Cold Outside." A classic :)**

 **Also just to make this chapter (and why Dean is upset) a bit clearer, Dean is** **freaking out because of the ten year age difference, really. Not the fact that she's underage (because in Canada, Bella isn't underage) And the fact that he likes her so much, but now he sees her in this new light- as a young girl who has her whole life ahead of her and doesn't need him and his baggage dragging her down. His Winchester guilt is strong here. And when they hooked up the first time (during Halloween), Bella was in a bar in America where the drinking age IS 21 and that's why she carries a fake ID. I hope that clears any lingering confusion up. I know I wasn't very clear. That's my bad.**


	14. Lean On Me

**This one is kind of choppy, kind of terrible. It's a little sad, a little funny. I wrote the part with Bella's dad because I'm been really missing my own dad the last few days. I only live an hour away from him, but still. It's crazy how much you can miss someone after leaning on them for so many years.**

* * *

 _And I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on. For it won't be long, 'til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on."_

 _ **December 25, 2008**_

Bella shifts closer to her brother with a sigh. It's cold, so cold, and the vodka is going to her head as she and Jace laugh at the TV. They'd played eight rounds of poker after Dean had left and Jace had cleaned her out. Bella is down ten dollars, nearly her entire collection of Sour Patch Kids, and one dose of acid that she doesn't remember buying. The smell of weed clings to their clothes and to Jace's sheets. Terrible, really. They're both hoping the room will air out before everyone else gets up to celebrate Christmas. It's 3:00 in the morning and they're both drunk and still a little high, watching _Family Guy_ and eating the leftover food from the Christmas party that ended four hours ago.

"Why the hell are you staring at me?" says Jace.

Bella lets out a giggle.

"I want to light your bangs on fire," she answers, brushing a hand across her brother's forehead. "You're twenty-two, Jay. Don't you think it's time to give up the emo teenage phase?"

"Says the girl who wore neon tutus until she was sixteen," Jace fires back, digging his hand in the nearly empty bag of Dill Pickle Lay's.

"Fuck off. I thought I looked fantastic."

"No, you looked like a bad '80's music video."

Bella giggles again and leans her head against Jace's shoulder. He tries to feed her a chip, but she waves him off.

"I want TimBits. Go get me some TimBits."

"It's like four a.m, Jingle Bells."

She raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"Can't you just eat these sugar cookies?"

"It's not the same thing and you know it."

Jace looks equal parts amused and irritated.

"I'm drunk as hell. I'm not getting in a car."

"Maybe I'll go then," Bella tries to get up, but fails, flopping back against her brother, "Or not. I think my legs have turned to jello."

"Mmm, jello sounds good right now," muses Jace.

She hits him gently on the shoulder.

"You're disgusting. Jello is just flavored water congealed into fun shapes. I want TimBits."

"Jesus, just go make some doughnuts."

"I can't," whines Bella. "Remember the last time I cooked something at three in the morning?"

"Yeah," says Jace. "Mom was not happy to find you nearly unconscious over a bowl of pasta."

"But those three bites I had before falling asleep were the best bites of food I've ever had."

Jace laughs at his sister.

"Here, have a Kinder Surprise."

"Fine," Bella unwraps the egg and stares at it for a minute, "You know these are banned in the States?"

"Are they really? Why?"

"The toy is apparently a 'choking hazard.' Says the country who makes cheese from a can."

Jace gasps dramatically. "Cheez Whiz is the best! You've never tried it before?"

"God, no. I'm Italian, Jace. We eat real food and we have the best cheese in the world. None of that overly processed, bright orange shit."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Italians do food way better than the rest of the world. How many times are you going to tell me that?"

Biting into her Kinder Surprise, Bella shrugs.

"Until it soaks into that thick skull of yours," she says, her mouth full of chocolate.

"What'd you get?" Jace asks, gesturing to the toy capsule.

Bella pops it open and shows him. It's a small panda. She makes it walk across her brother's leg.

"What should I call her?"

"Uh, Pandy?"

"Really? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well then, what's panda in Italian?" Jace says.

"Panda."

He cracks up at the deadpan way she says it.

"I'm serious!" Bella says shrilly.

"I believe you. Okay, what about Hei Bai?"

"What's that?"

"The panda spirit from _Avatar,_ " says Jace.

Bella gives him a blank look.

" _Avatar_? That cartoon I tried to make you watch? I said you were a Fire Bender and you wouldn't speak to me for about four days after that since they were the bad guys? That show?"

"Ooooh yes, I do remember that show. And no, not Hei Bai. I'm going to name her Panpan."

"How original.".

"At least it wasn't as stupid as Pandy."

"Fuck off. I thought it was fantastic," Jace parrots, throwing Bella's earlier words back at her.

Something scratches at Jace's closed door then and both siblings turn to look towards the source of the noise. A pitiful meowing accompanies the scratching and then a black paw slides under the crack. The paw wiggles, as though the owner of the paw is pleading to be let inside. Bella gets up and walks on her knees to open the door. As soon as the door opens, a blur of fur rushes in. Luna tumbles excitedly into Jace's room, going right to Bella and butting her owner's fingers to pet her. Bella scoops her cat up and sets her on her lap, leaning her head on her brother's shoulder again. Tyler wanders in next. The pitbull lays down next to Jace with a heavy sigh and licks the stray bits of dill pickle flavor off of Jace's fingers.

"Why are you sighing?' Jace asks Tyler. "What do you have to be so stressed about?"

Bella smiles. "Yeah, Ty. You laze around in my flat all day, eating all the dry cat food and hiding my socks. Pay rent, you lazy thing."

"Get a job," adds Jace.

"Yeah, get a job. Then-then open a savings account!"

Jace looks at Bella. "What?"

"So she..." Bella starts laughing maniacally.

Jace stares at her, intensely concerned for his sister. But then he understands and makes a face.

"Hell, you're going to make a pun, aren't you?"

He knows Bella always cracks awful jokes when it's just them hanging out. Add in a bit of weed and booze and Bella's sense of humor turns into what she thinks is fit for the likes of Wanda Sykes or Tina Fey. But her jokes actually suck and Jace is always embarrassed for her.

"CAN MAKE A DE-PAWS-IT!" screams Bella, cackling.

"What the actual fuck? Shut the hell up, the entire family is sleeping," groans Jace, putting his head in his hands in shame. "That's it, no more booze for you."

"What? Why?" says Bella.

"Because," he answers, taking the vodka bottle away from his sister, "When you start cracking terrible puns, that's how I know you've hit your limit."

Bella pouts. "Not fair. I thought it was funny."

"It is fair and it wasn't funny."

"You suck."

"And you are not as funny as this vodka makes you think you are."

"Do you know how funny I am in Italian?" Bella says.

"I have some Italian jokes for you. A Roman walks into a bar, holds up two fingers, and says "five, please!" Jace says.

She stares at him, her green eyes narrowing.

"Fuck. You."

He laughs. "Here's another. Did you hear about the Italian chef that died? He PASTA way!"

"Oh Christ, come on," says Bella, rolling her eyes.

"How is the Italian version of Christmas different? One Jesus, one Mary, and thirty-two Wise Guys!" Jace continues and Bella's lips twitch, which causes Jace to lean closer; "Ah? Ah?" he says.

Bella starts to laugh and her brother holds his arms over his head in triumph. He mimics the sound of a crowd cheering.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I got her to laugh! Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week!"

"That was awful!" Bella says, shaking her head in mirth.

"But it got you to laugh," says Jace, his shoulders still shaking with giggles.

"It did," she relents.

They sit together quietly then. Bella yawns and curls herself into her brother's side. He sighs and leans his head back onto his bed. Bella chews on her lip, her brain working overtime. She's trying to figure out how to approach the topic of Dean, but knows she has to go about it delicately. Her brother is the sweetest guy ever, but being raised as a hunter has made him emotionally constipated, yet very quick to anger. He has a very sharp tongue and most discussions they have eventually leave one of them either close to tears or breaking vases.

"Jay?" she starts.

"Hmm?"

Bella sighs, picking off the black nail polish from her thumb. She's dawdling, she knows. Jace pokes her side gently and she looks up at him. His eyes are kind.

"He told me he isn't sure he wants me dead anymore. I don't know what to make of that."

Her brother sighs again, looking thoughtful.

"Do you believe him?"

"I'm not sure. How can I when I know what he's capable of?"

"You shouldn't be scared of him, Jingle Bells. Yeah, he's killed more monsters than our mom has, but you can light things on fire. Who'd be the real winner in a fight?"

"I'm not really sure that that's what I mean," she hums. "He's a heart breaker."

"You have feelings for him?"

"I'm not sure. He may be a complete asshole, but his energy is so brave and kind and ** _real._** His job makes him a bullshitter, but it's hard to believe the bullshit when you can read his aura. And I think he may care about me too. I just- goddesses, please say something, Jay. I can't stand it."

"I think that you both are way too similar. Stubborn as anything with a helluva mouth on you. He's using you. You're just his flavor of the month."

Bella shrugs. "Maybe he's just my flavor of the month, ever thought of that?"

"I try not to think how much sex my little sister is having," says Jace, looking peeved and Bella has to fight back her eye roll.

"Oh, come on. It's not like I'm seventeen anymore. Why is everyone trying to police my sex life? Makes you a bit hypocritical, don't you think? I'm not allowed to have casual flings, but you can?"

"Jesus fuck, you're my little sister, Bella!" his voice is getting louder, "I worry about you!"

"I never asked you to, Jace!' Bella says just as loudly.

Here they go again.

"Who else is gonna do it, huh? You obviously don't give a shit! Sleeping with anything that gives you half of a passing glance!"

Bella freezes. Her brother's words punch her hard in the gut as she gets his meaning. Her eyes widen at the same time this realization hits.

"That's what this about, isn't it? Why you gave him so much shit? It's not just him, it's me, isn't it?"

"Yes! You're such a- being such a-such a-"

"Say it, I dare you," she leans up on her knees, poking her finger into his cheek. "Say the word, Jace!"

"No! Leave it alone!"

"Say the word, Jace! What am I? I dare you to say it! What am I? What am I? WHAT AM I?"

"A slut, okay?! Christ, you're a slut! You sleep around and you don't care! My baby sister has had more sex than I have! You're twenty years old and you've been hooking up with guys older than you since you came over from Italy! You're fucking jail bait! It's not right, the way you act, damn it!"

 _SMACK!_

Bella's hand stings as soon as it connects with her brother's cheek. He looks stunned, as though he can't believe she'd do that to him. It has the desired effect as Jace closes his mouth. Getting in his face, Bella goes off on her brother.

"Go fuck yourself," she snarls. "Out of **_everyone_** I know in this hellhole of a world, I thought I'd have you to count on. Be a shoulder to cry on, isn't that what you told me after I was stood up at my first and only prom? When you found me with an empty bottle of pills in my hand the year after my family was murdered? What happened to that, huh? Or doesn't it matter anymore now that I'm a 'slut'?"

"You're a stripper, for fuck's sake!" says Jace loudly.

"But does that mean I don't deserve the same level of respect that you'd give mom? Does it mean that I don't deserve your love? That because I'm a stripper, I can't fall in love? What are you trying to tell me, because I am not seeing your point here?!"

"If you don't respect yourself, how can you expect anyone else to?!"

Whoop, and there it is.

Bella moves away from Jace and sits back on her knees. Her mouth still hangs open, but every comeback she had prepared leaves her. She feels her lower lip quiver. God, she hates it when he's right, the bastard. No, she will not cry. Do not give him the satisfaction, Rossi! A lump in her throat makes it hard for her to swallow. Tears swim behind her eyes and Jace reaches out hesitantly for his baby sister.

"Wait, I- fuck, don't cry. Shit, I didn't- damn it-"

Shielding her face from Jace by letting her hair fall in front of her eyes, Bella lets the tears fall. Her heart aches. She fucking hates Christmas. She wants her mamma. She wants her babbo. She wants her Nonna Juliette to wrap her up in that itchy, old blanket and feed her milky tea with honey. Tyler leans up and licks at the drying tears on Bella's cheeks. She just sobs louder, wanting her family. Fuck these stupid Canadians that just took her in because they felt they had an obligation! She doesn't realize she's crying out in bursts of breathless Italian until Jace has his arms around her.

"Shh. Please, I'm sorry. Don't cry, don't," he's whispering in her ear as Bella curses everyone and everything in her mother tongue.

She pushes herself away from him and gets on unsteady legs. Hobbling over to the door, she pulls it open and hurries from Jace's room, crying hysterically and overall making a big scene. Before she can run down the staircase and out the door, big arms wind themselves around her waist and a body covers her frame, sinking them both down to the floor. She buries her face in the person's chest.

"Voglio mio babbo! Voglio mia mamma! Fanculo! Odio il Natale!" Bella shudders. "Voglio morire. Voglio morire. Voglio morire."

Someone above her lets out a little cry in surprise and the arms around her tighten. The voice speaks, telling everyone to back off. Doors slam open and closed as the stupid Canadian family rushes in and out of bedrooms to witness her breakdown.

"Farli andare via. Farli andare via!"

"Okay, okay," the voice says gently in her ear. "Let's go. I gotcha, darlin'."

The strong arms scoop her up as though she weighs nothing and then they're walking down the stairs and out the door. Bella shivers as goosebumps prickle up her bare legs. The strong arms hold her tighter to the wide chest and she huffs a deep sigh against the person's t-shirt. They finally come to a stop and the arms shift her around so the person and Bella can sit down. She's sitting on a chair opposite the comforting arms, her head leaning on the person's shoulders.

"Daddy," says Bella. "Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace."

The arms pull her away and the soft eyes of Rob Anderson glitter down at her. She pinches her eyes closed and a fresh wave of tears come.

"I ain't goin' nowhere. Been awhile since you've cried, hasn't it? It's not a good idea t' keep this stuff bottled up."

"Jace ha detto io sono la puttana. Am I?"

Rob shifts Bella again and looks down at his daughter's face. His eyes are sad. Christmas has always been hard on him. It was during Christmas that his uncle was killed in a car accident. It was when Tricia miscarried for the first time. It was when the entire Rossi family was killed. Nic Rossi had been his friend for as long as he could remember. When he and Tricia got the news that both Nic and Gia died along with the three remaining Rossi grandparents, Robert was devastated. Then when he found out that their daughter, a thirteen year old Bella, was still alive, there was no question that the Andersons would take her in. Sweet Bella. It had taken her no time at all to warm up to him. But he isn't her real father, a fact that Rob understands and Bella hates. It makes his heart ache.

"No. You're not. And Jace should know better than t' say stuff like that, especially today," he lets out a sigh. "I'll hafta have a word with him."

"I killed Tracy, Daddy," whispers Bella, chewing hard on lower lip.

The guilt is overwhelming her now. She had been able to push it down, but now, with the yearly anniversary of her entire family's death looming over her head, has Bella feeling like the worst person in the world. She's a fucking mess and is no better than that stupid, murderous Tracy.

"Yes," he says.

"I know that someone else could have dealt with her," says Bella softly. "And I killed her for revenge. Not because she was raising Samhain."

"I know, darlin'."

"You're not mad?"

"Mad? Naw. How could I be? Weren't we all just itchin' for her t' die?"

Bella laughs a little desperately. "I suppose."

"And if any of us were t' kill her, it'd be you. She was yours t' hunt."

"She was easy to take down."

Rob raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Feeling sick at how delighted she feels at his apparent interest in this topic, Bella sits up. Her hands fly about, using them as emphasis as she tells the story.

"I had a vial of her blood. She left it lying around after she attacked me back in Italy. It was the blood that she used to keep Samhain in her grasp. A simple curse on the blood and Samhain was toast. Tracy was easy. She wasn't as powerful as she boasted. Just did a little," Bella twists her hand as though she's turning a doorknob, "And she was gone. But-"

"But what?"

"It was nice at first. Then I thought since I killed her, I was no better than she was."

"Sweetheart, no. You will never be like her," her dad says.

Bella nods, not quite believing him. They sit in silence and Bella can feel every damn thing culminating underneath her bones until she wants to rip herself apart. She digs her nails into her bare leg and presses down hard. Her nails are long and leave little crescent shaped indents that well up with blood as she drags her nails down her legs. She snaps the hair tie around her wrist repeatedly against her skin. She hates this feeling. She wants to tear her skin off. Tear her hair out and wipe her brain clean. She has the urge to go jump in a pile of snow with her clothes off. She wants to jump off a bridge, hold her breath for minutes underwater, stand in the middle of a busy street, anything. Her fingers fly back and forth between snapping her wrist band and digging her nails into her thigh. This night especially has been one trigger after another and Bella can feel her brain starting to lose control. On the upswing to a manic episode during Christmas. What a hilariously depressing circumstance. What a fucking cliche you are, Rossi. God, she hates. Hates, hates, hates.

"Hey," her dad says, tugging her hands from her thigh. "Look up. Whattya see, darlin'?"

Bella's obsession with the night sky hadn't reached its peak until she came to live with the Andersons. She had known the phases of the moon, where the Big Dipper was, but it wasn't until her very first Christmas away from home that she had fell in love with the sky. On a night much like this one, Rob had scooped her up in his arms while she had been sobbing and brought her outside, pointing to all the different glowing orbs in the sky. He had her look through his telescope and make wishes on a few shooting stars. He explained that the sky in Canada was no different than the sky in Italy. The stars were the same, just seen at different times. The moon protected her no matter where she was. And so would he. She breathes out a shaky exhale. Maybe she can get through this holiday without losing her mind for once.

"Daddy?" says Bella.

"Hmm?"

"Don't tell mom this, but I see him in my dreams. Lucifer."

The change in topics is sudden. But her dad understands the way her brain works when she gets like this, so he just takes it all in stride.

"You do?"

His daughter nods. "He hurts me. Digs his nails into my arms and hits me. Bites me sometimes. I wake up with bruises and scratches."

Bella feels as her dad's arms tighten briefly around her wrists. Robert wants to go hunt that son of a bitch down and make him plead for his life. Instead, he grabs his daughter's hand and squeezes it. She turns her right arm over and wordlessly shows him what he doesn't want to see. A red hand print stains her forearm, as though she was grabbed tight and whatever it was held on to her for a very long time.

"He wants us to join him, Daddy. But why would he hurt us? I don't understand."

"I don't know, darlin'. I don't know."

"I think I'm scared. Lottie says bad stuff is coming," Bella's voice is tiny.

Sometimes Rob forgets that Bella was just a little thing when her entire world was turned upside down. She usually acts so grown up; she's always been that way. By age thirteen, she would speak as though she was twenty. Mature in both words and actions Bella is, and it's rare that she folds in on herself and turns into the same little girl that wandered around for five hours in a house where the most gristly of murders ever seen in Italy took place. It's a terribly strong front she puts on and it rarely ever crumbles.

"What has she seen?" he asks her.

She curls into his shoulder again. "Fire. Blood. Dead witches, but she couldn't tell if they were us or not. Papa Legba won't tell me anything. He says he can't see anything bad happening, but I know he's lying."

"Did he try anythin' against y'all while you were in Greece?"

"No. He isn't strong enough yet to take us all on. But he's coming. Everyone can tell. Soon even Hecate won't be able to protect us. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know it isn't good."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come t' it, darlin'. For now, whattya say we go get some rest? You look exhausted."

"Not sure I can sleep right now. My brain- mile a minute up here," she says, tapping her head.

"Can you try? For me?

Bella agrees. "Okay."

It's a weak agreement. Even the dumbest person wouldn't have believed it. And she knows her dad doesn't, not for a second. But he doesn't force the issue, never does, and Bella isn't sure if she likes it that way or not.

"Okay."

He stands again, his knees creaking in slight protest. Bella waits for him to stand and they walk back to the house together, her arm laced through his. She's swaying on her feet, looking ready to drop. Her dad helps her through the door and up the staircase. He walks her to her bedroom and opens the door. She hugs him tightly and he is gentle as he pats her hair. Sometimes she forgets that this is Rob Anderson, the best retired hunter in Canada. He's so gentle with her when she gets like this.

"G'night darlin'," he says.

She smiles "Good night. Ti amo."

"Ti amo anch'io," her dad replies in perfect Italian.

Another reason why he is the best. He became completely fluent in Italian just for her. To make her transition more comfortable. Even her new mom didn't go that far- Tricia only learned the basics. Bella closes her bedroom door as soon as her dad turns away and heads back to his own room. The light next to Winter's bed flickers on as Bella shuffles over to her bed. Both Winter and Jessa look up at their sister with concerned eyes.

"You okay?" says Jessa.

"No," says Bella.

"Come here."

She walks over to her sisters and Winter moves her blankets out of the way so Bella can lay down next to her. Jessa squeezes in on the other side and both she and Winter fling an arm around Bella.

"I hate Christmas," Bella murmurs.

She feels as Jessa kisses the top of her head.

"You really scared us."

"I'm sorry."

"Haven't seen you that bad in a long time," Winter adds, tracing patterns on Bella's back.

"I've been a mess lately. Jace-"

"Went too far," says Jessa firmly. "He told us what happened."

"He's right."

"Maybe so," Jessa says. "But he shouldn't have brought it up tonight of all nights."

"I'm sorry everyone had to hear all that shit," Bella says. "I'm such a fucking drama queen."

"No, that is **_my_** title and you may not take it away from me," Winter quips.

"She _**does**_ have a crown for it," Jessa muses.

Bella giggles. Winter had gotten the title in eighth grade after the school play was over for the year. The kids in her drama club had voted on which person would get what award. Winter had won _Most Dramatic_ and to this day, the crown hangs above her desk. It's a source of pride for her and whenever anyone tries to make fun of her for it, she just sticks her nose in the air and owns it. Yawning loudly, Winter flicks her light off. Her clock reads five a.m. and Bella knows her little brothers will be awake in less than two hours, ready for Christmas.

The energy plugging away at her brain begins to slow with each pass of Jessa's fingers through her hair. Bella shudders a slow, deep breath. The effect is instantaneous and she feels her heartbeat slow almost as fast as it had rose. She will not think about Dean. She will not think about her family or Tracy. She will not think about what could have been. Tomorrow is Christmas and she will not make a scene. A smile breaks out onto her face. She will be lovely. She will eat food and laugh with Jace. She will forgive him because that it what you do on Christmas. She will not act up during Christmas dinner. She's good at hiding and the cracks only show themselves infrequently in public. And no one will ever mention this breakdown again.

* * *

 **So this chapter... I don't know, man. I hate it, but it turned out better than I thought. But I still kind of hate it. I dunno. What do you all think? I was feeling like I had to cut the sex and fluff with a bit of angst. And Bella can't be over something so traumatic, can she?**


	15. White Christmas

_"May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white."_

Her stomach is fit to bursting with all the food she had shoved down her throat not two hours ago. Her eyes are watering from the cold and her nose is running like a faucet, causing her to wipe mucus on her glove every ten seconds. But honestly, Bella couldn't be happier. Which is a strange, foreign feeling for her on Christmas day. It had been seven years to the day (and almost to the hour, Bella reports to herself with a check of her dashboard) since her Aunt Tracy had come and murdered her entire family.

It had been one of the best Christmas that little Bella had ever had. Her entire family had spent Christmas Eve day together in the Rossis' little house by the beach and everyone, minus Bella's grandparents, had left the next morning. She had been wearing a new red dress, a little too scandalous in length for her thirteen years, but perfect for the balmy eight degrees Celsius that the island of Capri was that entire month of December. After a simple breakfast of leftover pizzelles dipped in cappuccino, she had tugged on her battered pair of faerie wings, grabbed her favorite nonna (Juliette) and a picnic basket. She lead her grandmother around a few bends, up a steep incline, and didn't stop until they arrived at the Villa San Michele. From her basket, Bella had pulled out her brand new tea set, a teapot filled with lukewarm milk, a shaker of cinnamon, and a bottle of honey. She meticulously set everything out on the small stone bench she and her grandma had chose to sit on. Her eyes had lit up in happiness when Nonna Juliette had produced two fresh flower crowns from behind her back. Bella hadn't even noticed her nonna's nimble fingers weaving the pretty white lilies and long stalks of dried seagrass together until they came together as headpiece. She had taken one, eyes alight, and placed it on her head. Now, instead of Isabella Eva Juliette Gael Rossi, she was Fiore del Mare- Principessa al Trono del Feywilde. And she was in the presence of the Faerie Queen herself. And they were to be having tea.

"Hey," says a voice.

Bella looks up from the box in her hands with a small smile. She shakes her head a little, bringing herself back to the present.

"You okay?" Jace asks, his forehead creased. "You've been holdin' that box for five minutes, staring at it like it hold the secrets to eternal life or something."

"Sorry. I was just thinking."

He takes the box full of food from her hands and places it in the back of her car.

"About?" Jace prompts.

"Those faerie wings I used to wear. Remember them?"

He nods, smiling gently. "Gia made them, didn't she?"

"Yes. Mamma gave them to me on my tenth birthday. It took her a long while to make them. They were meant to look like dragonfly wings."

"I remember. After you came to live with us, you wore them for about seven months straight. You'd even fall asleep in 'em."

There is still a misty smile on Bella's face as she nods at the memory.

"And then I had to throw them away. Mamma's gift. They ended up in the trash," she says, her voice quivery.

"Because you danced around in them so much that they got worn out. You loved 'em, didn't you?" says Jace.

Bella nods again.

"Then there you go," Jace says patiently. "It's not like you just threw 'em away for no reason."

She nods once more, taking her brother's hand in her own and curling their fingers together. Laying her head on Jace's shoulder, Bella looks up at him with big green eyes. He bops her gently on the nose and she huffs a tiny laugh.

"You still mad at me?" he asks.

"Maybe," she says in return. "But maybe not. It depends on whether or not you give me my Christmas present."

"Only if you give me mine too. I see you trying to hide it."

"Well, I saw a picture frame tucked in the garage by your car when I came out here. So, you get yours when I get mine."

Jace chuckles. "Fine. Deal. Lemme go get it."

"Okay," says Bella.

She fishes around in her trunk until she reemerges with two packages taped to each other and covered with wrapping paper. A curly silver bow sits on top along with a card that reads Testa di Cazzo in Bella's messy handwriting. Eventually Jace returns from the garage, the picture frame in his hand turned away so Bella cannot see what's inside.

"You first," she says. "If you don't mind."

Jace turns the frame around and watches as Bella lights up. It's a trio of pictures of Bella's forever crush James Dean. He's smoking a cigarette in two out of the three photos and his hair is slicked back and coiffed in every one. His leather jacket mocks Bella in the best way and she lets out an unbelieving laugh. He's so beautiful, so manly, so perfect for her that it makes her chest ache. Under the picture, Bella reads: Dream as if you'll live forever, Live as if you'll die today- her favorite quote. She shakes her head and looks at Jace.

"This is amazing. Thank you."

"I knew you needed a James Dean poster in your apartment. Made it myself at that copier store."

"I love it. Wow. And you managed to find my three favorite pictures, J. I'm in love."

"Just don't make out with it while I'm right here, okay?"

"No promises," she says, holding out Jace's packages.

He rips into them immediately, ignoring the card. Making a mess of the wrapping paper, Jace tears the last of it off and looks at his two gifts.

"Bindings _**and**_ goggles? How expensive were they both?" he wonders.

"Bindings are a lot more expensive than goggles. But I finagled a discount. I know the girl who manages the sporting goods store," answers Bella.

"I cannot wait to use these, Jingle Bells. This is awesome, thanks," he gives his sister a teasing grin. "I'm gonna go boarding sometime soon. Think I could get you on a pair of skis?"

"Fuck, no. Not after last time."

Jace grins widely. "That was pretty sad. And you were on the easiest slope out there."

"Ugh, give me snowmobiles over skis any day. You forgot the card, by the way. I worked hard on it."

Jace wordlessly hands Bella another gift as he goes for the card, laying forgotten on the cold concrete of the driveway. Bella opens the tiny white box and inside there is a necklace with three charms hanging from it. There is a stylistic R, an eagle, and a fake blue sapphire gemstone.

"A Ravenclaw necklace! You know me so well, dude."

"What does Testa di Cazzo mean?" says Jace, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Dickhead," Bella says and Jace makes an irritated noise in his throat.

"Thanks."

"You are so welcome. Help me put my new necklace on?"

Jace waits until Bella moves her hair out of the way before clipping the thing around her neck. She drops her messy curls and adjusts the charms so they sit perfectly straight. Her brother grins and nods in approval.

"Looks good."

"Ah, thanks to you. Now, come on. I bet everyone is waiting inside for us. The quicker we open the rest of our gifts, the quicker I can see Steven."

"You're acting like he's forgotten about you already," Jace says as they head back into the house.

"He may have. I'm sure he and Lia have found other people to bother by now. They're both very attractive."

"Yeah, for a couple of homeless bums."

Bella hits him on the shoulder.

"They can't help it. Leave them alone. They're both very nice, you know."

A gust of warm air meets them as Jace pulls open the door. He and Bella sidle inside, slipping off their snow covered boots and hanging their coats on the hooks right by the door. Bella slides on her fuzzy socks across the linoleum floor and almost crashes into Jessa, who catches her with her arms around Bella's waist.

"Hey Jess," says Bella.

"You guys good? Ryder's been ready to blow a gasket for ten minutes now," Jessa says in return.

"We're good. All packed up."

Walking into the living room, Bella takes in her entire family sitting near the Christmas tree. Darien and Emilie are wearing Santa hats and passing out gifts as Bella takes a seat on the couch next to Atticus. Atticus, ready as ever, hands Bella her stocking and she thanks him with a kiss to the top of his soft, downy hair. She dumps out the sock and begins to sift through everything. 'Santa' had left her a few squares of dark chocolate, some mini Snickers bars, a gift card to Tim Horton's, a bottle of dark purple nail polish, and a pair of new headphones. Bella holds them up and says to the room;

"How'd Santa know?"

She was always either breaking them or losing them and it had become a running joke in her family that whenever there was a holiday that constituted presents, Bella got a pair of headphones.

"My idea," chirps Darien as she slides a very heavy box towards Bella.

"They're pretty. Where do you even find yin and yang headphones?"

"Some old record shop that Dad forced me to visit a few weeks back. I thought they'd look perfect when you wear one of your emo outfits."

"I am not emo, Darien. I am, at best, rocker chic."

"Whatever," Darien replies, dodging the socked foot Bella thrusts at her.

A tiny hand pokes Bella on the shoulder.

"Yes, Atty?" she says, turning to her baby brother.

He holds out a messily wrapped gift with tape all over it.

"Fo' you."

"Me? Thanks, Atty."

With careful fingers, Bella unwraps the gift, making sure to stick the bow on to her head just to make Atticus laugh. The paper falls away to reveal a cute picture frame made of heavy paper. It is one of those typical preschool presents that the kids make when the teachers are tired and feeling not very creative but yet, Bella could tell it took her little brother a long while to make. He is a very careful little guy; slow at doing tasks because he wants to do them as well as he possibly can. Atticus had stuck snowflake stickers all around the outside of the frame and painstakingly sprinkled red, green, and silver glitter in random clumps. The picture he had put inside was one of Bella's favorites. The picture was of them last summer when Bella's family had traveled down across the border to her aunt and uncle's ranch in Montana. She and Atticus were sitting atop a horse and Bella's arms were wrapped around her brother, holding him in place. He looked happy and wide-eyed and Bella's hair was dyed to look exactly like fire. They were both barefoot and wearing matching shirts for the Fourth of July. Both of their smiles were huge and they were both waving at the camera so hard that their hands were blurred in the photo.

It is probably the best Christmas present Bella has ever gotten.

"Atty," she coos, giving him a side hug, "I love it so much! Thank you."

"Welcome. Merry Christhmas," he says in his little boy voice, lisping on the last word.

Bella smiles. "Now. Open my gift."

"Which one?"

"The _**big**_ one," says Bella dramatically and Atticus' eyes widen.

"Big, big, big!" he says excitedly, getting off the couch and scrambling towards it.

He rips the paper off the package with a little help from Bella's dad. When there is nothing left but a plain ol' cardboard box, he looks up at his sister in confusion.

"What is it?"

"Have Dad open it and find out," Bella answers mysteriously.

Atticus tugs on his dad's arm until Rob pulls out a pocket knife and cuts the sides of the box. As soon as the cardboard is out of the way, Bella watches as Atty soaks his gift in. Once he realizes what it is, he gets to his feet and begins to jump up and down.

"A plane, a plane, a plane!"

Bella laughs at his excitement. It is indeed an airplane. She had found it when Annie had dragged her to an antique store. It was pretty cheap for being what it was and after giving it a good deep clean, getting some new wheels, and fixing some squeaky bits, Bella had plastered it with more stickers, painted over the ugly green color with sparkly black, and painted Atticus' name on the tail with swirly white letters.

"Drive it?" says Atty excitedly.

Without waiting for an answer, he climbs in the seat and places his feet on the pedals, zooming away with a giggle.

"We'll never see him again," Bella's dad pipes up.

She grins. "Good. I was hoping he'd like it. It took me forever to clean."

"Did ya open your mom and my's gift yet?"

Bella shakes her head.

"It's the big 'un near your feet. Open it."

She does as she's told and gasps in surprise when she sees that it is a brand spanking new KitchenAid stand mixer. When she pulls open the top she finds that the mixer itself is a bright candy apple green. Bella immediately falls in love.

"Oh, Dad! Ma!" she gushes. "Thank you so much! I needed a new one!"

"Special color and everything too," her mom pipes up. "Did I pick a good one?"

"I didn't even know KitchenAids came in green! It's beautiful. I can't wait to use it."

"And did you see the apron?"

"Apron?" Bella says to her mom.

"Tucked inside," Tricia says.

Bella digs around and emerges with one apron that, when she unfolds it, has an Italian flag on it and says; I don't need a recipe, I'm Italian.

"Mmm, don't you know it," says Bella with a giggle. "No recipes for this girl."

"How do you do it?" her mom replies.

"Cooking's in my blood. Literally. If you mapped my veins, you'd see chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese floating around instead of blood," says Bella matter-of-factly and her mom laughs at her quip.

The rest of Bella's gifts are just as thoughtful. Ryder wrapped up a new collar for Tyler and a few cat toys for her kittens. Dublin and Darien had pooled their money and found Bella a box set of all the Lord of the Rings films with special features included. Isla had found Bella a book on stars that the latter had never read before. Jessa gave Bella huge poster of the Franciso de Goya painting _Witches' Sabbath_. It is kind of an inside joke between the two of them because the painting itself is very dark and Satanic ritual looking, which is not how Bella's coven actually is. But it reminds Jessa of her little sister and because of that, Bella can't help but love the painting too.

In return, Bella had gifted Jessa three blank canvases for her own artwork, a set of gorgeous chalk pastels, and two tickets to the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

"You can take Gemma," says Bella with a sly grin.

"We can kiss under the Joan Mirós!" Jessa says happily. "Thanks Bella."

"You're welcome, Jess. Ryder," Bella turns to glance at him, "Did you open my gift yet? Something special from Greece, remember?"

Abandoning his new Winnie the Pooh plush, Ryder scampers over to where Bella has his gift. She hands it to him and he eagerly opens it. Ryder is a very clumsy aspiring chef and with that in her mind, Bella had found him a pair of oven mitts to protect his little hands from getting burned. He wasn't allowed to use the oven without an adult there to help him, but Bella knows he manages to skirt around that rule all the time. She had also got him a little machine that flash freezes popsicles, but that is ignored by Ryder when he finds the cookbook. It had taken Bella a long time to make, but while she was in Trikala, she had wandered around from house to house, asking the residents for any authentic recipes. She had written them down, bound them together, and decorated the front to make it look like an authentic cookbook.

"THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!" Ryder cries, flinging his arms around Bella. "Now I have something to cook again!"

"Have you seriously gone through the Spanish one I got you for your birthday already?" Bella says incredulously.

"Yes. I liked the chocolate con churro recipe the best. Then probably the gazpacho," Ryder replies, already flipping through the book.

Bella whistles, impressed. "Good for you, kiddo."

"Ooo, Mommy?" Ryder says, pointing already to a recipe. "Can we make this? Kol-Kal-Koloo- how do you say this, Bella?"

"Koulourakia."

"Koulourakia. Can we make it, Mommy? Please?"

"Tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Yay!"

Just then, a quiet voice cuts across the room, reaching Bella's ears. It's Isla and she's glowing in contentment from Bella's gift. Isla is Bella's quietest sister and the two had bonded over their shared love of the night sky. Isla has shown her older sister the science side of astronomy and in return, Bella taught her how natural born witches use the moon to see things that most people cannot. Though she is only ten, Isla is already in the sixth grade. In addition to her love of astronomy, she enjoys chemistry and reading any self improvement book. Bella is sure that she is going to win the Nobel Prize in chemistry. Isla's hero is Marie Curie and as such, Bella had also found her a poster of her heroine to hang up in her room.

"You like it, Is?" says Bella.

Isla nods. "Very much. Thank you. She'll look good next to Rosalind."

"Good. I'm glad you like it."

A squeal interrupts the calm and Bella knows that Darien must have found her gift from Bella. She had gotten her twelve year old sister two pairs of shoes. Some short heeled lace up booties and a pair of Converse in Darien's favorite shade of hot pink. There is also a new notebook and a set of absolutely beautiful colored pencils that Bella hopes Darien will use to work on her clothing line (called Halcyon Collective, a name that Bella knows for a fact Darien didn't come up with by herself) that she's been designing for three years. From what Bella has seen, it includes a lot of pink and a lot of sparkles.

Next to Darien is Dublin and she's also tearing into her presents with gusto. Completely different from Darien, Dublin is. She's more content in a hockey mask or twirling a set of drumsticks between her fingers and she always has some sort of stain on her worn jeans. Bella had found Dublin a new lacrosse stick for the upcoming spring season and she is currently swishing it around her head, testing the grip or whatever. Bella doesn't really understand sports much. Dublin is also proudly wearing the Montreal Canadiens jersey Bella had found for her. It reaches almost to her knees, but it is as authentic as they come.

"Okay. How do I look?" says a voice and Emilie pops up from behind a little palette of eye shadow.

Bella, who had found her little sister a young girl version of a makeup kit that would put adult kits to shame, puts a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. Winter, who had slid to sit behind Bella, lets out a noise of surprise. The two older girls exchange looks with each other and Bella raises her eyebrows. Emilie had chosen a forest green color. But she's putting it on her cheeks. Christ, what has Bella done?

"Em," Winter says gently. "That isn't where you-uh-put it."

Emilie ignores her, humming under her breath as she lines her lips with a black eyeliner pencil. Bella stifles another laugh and Winter sighs wearily, shaking her head.

"At least that will keep her out of my makeup. Good idea, Bella."

Bella laughs for real this time and leans back onto the floor of the living room right between Winter's legs. Winter mindlessly brushes a strand of Bella's hair from her sister's face.

"You got my gift, didn't you?"

Bella had purchased three tickets for Winter to go see _Guys and Dolls_ with her theater friends on Broadway. The tickets were very hard to get and Bella had bought them early (sometime in March), mailing them to Winter so she'd get them in time for Christmas.

"Of course," Winter replies. "I can't wait to see it."

"Again," quips Bella.

"Yep. Again."

"Let me know when you get tickets to _Rent_ or Les Mis. Then maybe I'll join you," Bella says.

"I cannot believe those are the only two musicals you know. How are we even related?"

"Uh, we're not?"

That makes Winter dissolve into giggles and she goes to tickle Bella's upper arm. Bella squirms, trying to push her away, but in the position she's in, it's a losing battle. Accepting the attack, Bella stays still, occasionally slapping Winter's fingers until the latter finally gives up. Climbing to her feet, Bella glaces at the clock on the wall and stretches her arms over her head with a grunt.

"Dad," she says and Rob turns to look at her, "We should go. Everyone'll be waiting."

"You're right. Is all the food packed up?"

"Yeah. Jace and I got everything under control. All we have to do is drive over and serve it."

"She's eager to see her boyfriend," Jace drawls from his spot on the big couch.

"Steven?" her mom and dad say at the same time.

"Steven?" Dublin says. "He's your boyfriend, Bella?"

Bella rolls her eyes. "How many times do I have to say that he isn't my boyfriend? He's the first friend I made outside this family and-"

"Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend," interrupts Emilie, singing as she paints brown eye shadow over the green.

"-The only homeless thirteen year old I'd ever met," Bella continues. "We've been friends for almost eight years. _**Friends**_. Besides, Lia is way cuter than Steven. Come on, Jace."

"Yeah, Jace," Jessa says. "Get it right."

"Yeah," Darien chimes in.

"DC, you don't even know who we're talking about," Isla points out.

"Sure I do! Steven!" Darien stumbles a bit in her new heels, "The-whoa!-the guy who Bella kisses under the mistletoe every Christmas!"

"What?" Winter squawks. "You kiss him every year?"

"Dad," Bella says urgently, ignoring her family. "It's almost noon."

"Fine. Someone go," Rob waves his arms over his head, "Retrieve Atticus, please."

"I'll find him!" Ryder says, getting to his feet and sprinting away.

"You've kissed him? More than once?" says Winter.

"So?" says Bella.

"So, how well do homeless guys kiss?" asks Jessa.

"I mean, it's fine," Bella shrugs. "It isn't like he tastes like dead fish or something, Jess. And yes, Win. More than once. Every Christmas in fact, since I moved here."

"Ew! Kissing is grooooooss!" Emilie cries.

"I am going to have to agree with Em there, Jingle Bells."

"Oh, what do you know, Jace?" says Bella, narrowing her eyes. "You almost made out with our second cousin."

"What?" Rob says loudly just as Tricia yells "Which one?"

Jace grimaces. "Thanks, Bella."

She gives him a smug, self satisfied grin, a sarcastic 'take that!' on her tongue. Then the clock officially chimes noon and Bella's eyes widen. She taps both of her socked feet impatiently. She wants to see Steven and serve meals and make people happy, damn it. And if Steven does let her kiss him under the mistletoe, who is Bella to complain? He's just stunning to look at- almost too stunning. Bright blue eyes, biceps, perfectly styled blond hair, (which is a bit strange since he's _**homeless**_ , but Bella has never questioned his seemingly mysterious ways) not to mention he's just so damn nice. Sometimes it makes Bella sick how nice Steven is. But he's had a hard life, she knows. They commiserate together whenever Bella goes to visit him. And both her and Steven are positive that one day, when each get their separate lives together, they will get married. In Italy, preferably. But it's a toss up whether they live in Anacapri or Brooklyn. Steven's as stubborn as Bella. And his pride for his hometown can put Bella's pride to shame.

"We really should go, Dad," says Jace.

Rob agrees and Bella smiles happily, excitedly.

"Pack it up, kids. Let's get a move on."

* * *

 **Horrid ending, I know. I've been writing this chapter for three weeks though and I wash my hands of it. Ugh.**

 **Anyway SotD is "White Christmas" -the Sinatra version because it reminds me of my family's celebrations and I just love Sinatra so much :) My American readers, have a happy Thanksgiving. I'm baking a pie that'd make Dean cry in happiness.**


	16. I Wanna Be Sedated

**This takes place after the events of the episode _On the Head of a Pin_ , just to let you all know. See if you can understand Dean's 'slurred' ramblings, I'm not sure if I liked how I wrote it.**

 **Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

 _"Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh. I wanna be sedated."_

 _ **Three Months Later (March 19, 2009)**_

Dean winces, startling himself awake. He grunts when he realizes he's laying in a hospital bed. He groans when he realizes that he hurts everywhere. And then he growls as he remembers how he got into this situation. Torturing Alastair, the demon who had tortured Dean for thirty years. Torturing Alastair on behalf of the angels, the guys who are supposed to be against anything of the sort. Fucking winged douche wheels. The IV pump that Dean is hooked up to beeps and he takes a risk and cranes his neck to look over at it. Big mistake. His entire upper half pulses with pain.

"You are getting a narcotic," says a voice that sounds suspiciously like Castiel's. "Which is also an opiod. It's used to treat moderate to severe pain. Can be highly addictive to humans and-"

Dean cuts the voice off by showing his middle finger.

"That is seen as a very rude gesture, Dean."

"Yeah, like I give a shit," says Dean angrily.

Castiel sighs. "Are you all right?"

"No fuckin' thanks to you."

"You need to be more careful," Castiel intones.

"And you," Dean growls, "Need to learn how to manage a goddamn devil's trap!"

"That's not what I mean, Dean. Uriel's dead. He disobeyed."

Dean snorts. "So? Why should I care if Junk-Less was workin' against you?"

"You should care because that means anyone could be working against us. We need to be on constant alert."

" ** _We_**?"

"Yes, 'we.' Whether you like it or not, your brother and you are a part of this. As Alastair told you-"

"Yeah, 'and it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.' So?"

"So, it means exactly what you think it means, Dean."

"But he's a demon," Dean says. "Demons lie all the fuckin' time."

"Not this time, I'm afraid."

A sudden chill runs down Dean's spine (and not just from the medication) and it fully dawns on him what he's been trying to pretend he didn't know. No. Wait. Really? Oh fuck, why him?

"S-serious, Cas? No joke?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. When we discovered Lilith's plans for you, we laid siege to Hell and we fought our way to you before you—"

"Broke the first seal," says Dean so quietly, so numbly.

"Yes. And we were too late."

"Why didn't you just leave me there?" Dean rasps.

"It's not blame that falls on you, Dean. It's fate and the Righteous Man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it. It has to be you," Castiel murmurs.

"Christ, I have to stop the fucking Devil? The goddamn apocalypse?"

"All I was told was that our fate rests with you."

"Great. Just great. Why am I the one havin' to babysit the entire fuckin' universe?" Dean shakes his head wearily. "Find someone else. I'm not all here and I'm not...s-strong enough. I can't do it."

"Dean," says Castiel. "If you would just listen to me for a moment..."

Dean slams his hand on one of his pillows and lets out a little yelp of pain as his bruised knuckles rebel against the movement.

"Sonofabitch!"

"I should let you rest, Dean," Castiel says.

With a soft swish, the angel is gone from the chair and Dean is left alone again. He rubs his thumbs against his temples and sighs heavily. The medicine pump beeps again and it takes only a few seconds for Dean to start getting dizzy as what he assumes to be morphine enters his veins. He yawns and lets his eyes close. As he begins to slip into a well-deserved sleep, he dreams. Alastair stands in front of Dean, chained to an old iron pentagram. Dean picks up a needle filled with holy water and jabs it into the demon's jugular. Alastair's screams follow Dean as he falls through the floor and he ends up back in Hell with flames licking at his skin. Dean picks his knife up with Alastair's urging and turns to see who the unlucky victim is. He lets out a startled choking noise as he sees Bobby hanging on the meat hooks.

 _"Bobby?"_

 _"Cut into him Dean."_

 _"I-I can't.."_

 _"You don't and you can get back up there!"_

Dean begs Bobby to understand that he has no choice. With a practiced hand, Dean slices his blade across Bobby's cheek. Bobby's fists tighten and he swears often as Dean gets started. Dean sticks a third hook through Bobby's thigh and connects it so that the poor guy's leg is bent in a really painful position. Dean hears a crackle and Bobby cries out as his knee breaks as soon as Dean hits the bone with a hammer. Bobby's yelling in pain and shouting horrible things at Dean, telling him that Dean's a monster who deserves to die, and why was he freed from Hell in the first place if this is who Dean really is?

Dean can't look at Bobby anymore and turns away to grab a new, smaller knife. As soon as he turns back, he notices that Sam has replaced Bobby on the rack. He's looking at Dean with wide puppy dog eyes, pleading for his monster of a brother to stop what he's doing and let Sam down.

 _"Sammy, I.."_

 _"Why are you doing this Dean?"_

 _"Sammy, I have no choice."_

One last stroke of Dean's blade has Sam's soul disintegrating right in front of Dean's eyes. He cries out for his little brother.

 _"Sammy doesn't deserve this! Alastair, get him out now!"_

 _"No, I don't think I will."_

 _"You motherfucker! Let him go now!"_

 _"Ah ah ah, little soldier, you come at me with that knife and I'll have you back under my blade before you can cry for help."_

 _"Then do it!"_

 _"Turn around Dean. Someone new is here. I think you'll like this one."_

With a different (and cleaner, Dean notices with a shudder) blade in hand, Dean looks to see his newest victim. He swallows back a little gasp. Bella looks so much smaller that Sam and Bobby, strung up on chains with metal hooks stabbing through her soft skin. Dean reaches out to cup her face in his hands, but they've turned into razor blades and he ends up slicing Bella's cheeks open. She screams and thrashes around in pain. Dean tries to press a cloth to the cuts, but his limbs are no longer his own and he punches Bella in the nose. A sickening crunch under Dean's knuckles and Bella begins to silently cry, sobs tearing through her slight frame and making her shake.

 _"Bells, you gotta understand... I'm so, so, **so** sorry, damn it."_

 _"Fuck you Dean."_

 _"Alastair, I can't. I'm done. This wasn't in the agreement."_

 _"Get your ass back on the rack, Winchester."_

 _"No, I'll do better, shit! Look, I'll..."_

Dean hears Bella's shoulder break as he forces another hook through her. She coughs and chokes up something gooey and red. Dean shivers and can feel the tears leak from his eyes. He picks up a whip and Bella stares at him, blood leaking from the side of her mouth. She's crying huge crocodile tears, but seems to be ignoring them as her hardened gaze cuts Dean apart.

 _"You deserve everything you're going to get, you know."_

He whips her in the stomach, tearing her shirt and leaving a red welt where the leather hit her. Bella screams again and Dean can't look at her as he continues. The whip clatters to the floor and he wipes fiercely at the tears running down his face. Alastair continues to mock him.

 _"Weak weak Winchester."_

 _"Fuck you, Alastair."_

 _"She's a pretty thing, isn't she?"_

 _"Fuck you."_

 _"Why don't you take off those bloodied clothes of hers? See what's under the hood?"_

 _"Fuck you!"_

 _"And give her a good, filthy screwing. Looks like she needs it."_

"FUCK YOU!" Dean shouts.

Startled, he pulls himself from the dream and wakes again in his hospital bed. He glances around, taking everything in. No weapons, no chains, no pentagrams, no hellfire. In fact, it all looks the same except for Dean's newest visitor.

"Bells?"

"Hey," says Bella softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, uh, bad dream. Jus' a bad dream."

"Opiates will do that to you."

"Yeah. What are you, uh, doin' here?"

"Sam called me, said he did something to a demon as revenge for beating you up. He said you had a nose tube and they had to sedate you and everything. He said the stupid angels wanted you to torture that demon for information."

"Oh," says Dean, his voice thick.

"Want some water? You sound terrible."

"Yeah, okay."

Bella hands him a cold cup and immediately, Dean downs it. She pours him some more and Dean chugs it all. He clears his throat a few times, coughs once, and then tries again.

"Better?" he says.

Bella rewards him with a smile. "Much."

"Was the best fuckin' water I've had," remarks Dean. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. You definitely sound better."

"How'd you get here?"

"Conveyance," she reaches for his hand and begins rubbing soothing circles over his bloody knuckles. "Faster than driving."

"Oh," Dean repeats, feeling stupid that that's all he can seem to say.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He shakes his head. "Nex' question."

"Who were you yelling 'fuck you' at?"

"Uh, nex' question."

"Do you want to see what I brought you?"

Dean gazes up at Bella, whose cheeks are a little pink.

"You got me a 'get well soon!' gift?" asks Dean, amused.

"Kind of," Bella then scowls. "Look, do you want it or not?"

"All righty, sweetheart. I'll humor you."

Leaning down to ruffle through her giant-ass bag, Bella reemerges clutching a small square box wrapped in gold paper. She hands it to Dean, who takes it, his interest piqued.

"I was driving through Toronto and I found this new Wiccan/Pagan/Celtic shop," says Bella.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "You bought me jewelry?"

"Look at it before you judge too hard, Mr. Manly Man."

"But **_jewelry?_** "

"Hey, are you going to open it or keep bitching?"

"Fine."

He lifts the top off the tiny box and inside sits a simple silver ring on a bed of cushy black velvet.

"Remember Christmas?" Bella asks tentatively as though she's waiting for him to yell about it again.

Dean nods, silently reassuring her that he isn't mad anymore. It was a stupid thing to be mad about anyway- he knows that Bella isn't going to go away that easily.

"So I found the star that you picked out as your mother. It's called Algol. It means Demon's Head. And the constellation it's in is Perseus. The Greek hero who beheaded Medusa. I thought it fit you pretty well. It was a good pick. It suits you well. Almost like the Fates took your finger and picked the star out just for you," she coughs a little, her face red again, "Say something please. Before I keep nattering."

"It's, uh, awesome, Bells," says Dean, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. And I put a black cord in there if you wanted to wear it as a necklace sometimes. Have it match with your amulet."

Dean does as she says, sliding the ring on the thick cord. He ties it off and slips it over his head.

"Well?"

"It looks good. Not too girly for you then?"

Dean shakes his head. "Nah. I like it a lot."

"Mm, I was so hoping you would."

She hesitantly takes his hand again. Her thin fingers are smooth and soothing against Dean's bloodied knuckles. His machine beeps and within just a few seconds, he grins lazily at Bella.

"Morphine?"

"Yeahhhhh," Dean blinks slowly. "It's awesome. Like 'm livin' in a cloud or sumthin'."

"Yes," muses Bella. "Gotta love opiates. And benzos."

"Experienced in tha', are we?" says Dean, amused.

Bella pushes his shoulder gently. "Shut up."

Dean yawns and wiggles away from Bella. He pats the tiny space next to him.

"C'mon. Wanna cuddle an' shit."

She drops his hand and swings a leg over the bed railing. With a few muttered swears and a lot of hair in her face, Bella finally sits herself down next to Dean. He gestures wordlessly with his good hand and Bella lays down, curling into his side.

"What else is on that intelligent mind of yours?" she asks.

Dean nibbles on his lip. He is definitely not going to tell her about his dream. 'Oh, y'know. Just dreaming that I was torturing you in Hell. No biggie!' Yeah, that'd go over well and Dean would leave this hospital in a fucking straitjacket.

"I was the one who started th'pocalypse," he decides to say instead. "And 'm the one who has t' end it."

"Are you kidding?"

"Naw."

"How? Why?"

"And it is written," Dean recites the words that now seal his fate, "That the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."

"You've got to be kidding," Bella says lowly. "Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck."

He chews on his cheek.

"Why me though?" Dean bursts out. "Why the fuck isit me? Didn't ask for this shit, you know? Think I wanted t' torture souls in Hell? You think I wanted t' be the big hero that has to save this entire cocksuckin' planet?! Shit, I wish I... I'm a fuckin' mess, Bells. I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"This!" he shouts.

"Everything? Yourself?"

Dean nods miserably. Bella nods, deep in thought, and presses a kiss to his hand before burrowing herself under his arm. They sit silent for a moment. Dean's fingers find their way over to Bella's bare arm and begin tracing random patterns into her skin.

"Me too," she finally says.

"You hate yourself too, huh?"

She laughs humorlessly.

"Oh yeah."

"Because?"

"How much time do you have, kid?"

Dean snorts dryly. "Baby, I've got nothin' bu'time. What's your story?"

"My story?" starts Bella. "Okay. It was never easy for me. I was-"

"Born a poor, black child," Dean cuts her off, grinning. "I remember the days sittin' on the porch with my family-"

"Singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi," finishes Bella, with the worst Southern accent that Dean's ever heard.

"That wasso bad!" he teases gleefully.

A laugh breaks free from his chest and once he starts, he finds himself unable to stop. It's a bit maniacal and Bella joins in. They stay like that for a good three minutes, cackling like a pair of hyenas for reasons that Dean isn't too sure about. Life's funny that way. And Dean likes a girl he can laugh with, even if it's the kind of laughter that may warrant a trip to an asylum. Bella's the first to settle down and he turns his head just enough to press his lips to hers. He's still letting out weak little giggles, his shoulders shaking. Bella wraps a hand around his neck and it's an awkward position, but she manages to get on top of him, holding herself away from his various injuries. Dean curls his fist around her hair and she lets out a little gasp when he tugs. She tastes like soda, Dean decides as he licks his way into her mouth. Bella kind of sighs and presses herself harder still against him. Dean winces and Bella's off of him like a shot, scanning his face nervously.

"Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry."

"'M okay," says Dean.

"Are you though?"

It's a loaded question and Dean, despite being high off of his ass, doesn't miss the underlying meaning. He shakes his head and leans up with his lips nearly touching Bella's once again.

"Naw. Just, fuck, just kiss me again. Dark lips. Taste like cherry Coke," he runs a finger down her cheek. "S'fuckin' pretty. My pretty, pretty girl."

"Winchester, you're totally drunk off your ass right now."

"Nah, I'm fine! Seeeeee?" says Dean, trying to touch a fingertip to Bella's nose.

He misses spectacularly and nearly stabs her in the eye. She bats his hand away and gives him a raised eyebrow, 'what did I tell you?' look. Ignoring her, Dean puckers his lips at her. Bella stifles a smile. Dean tries to touch her nose again and she waves him off.

"C'mon," Dean coaxes, his lips still puckered. "Kissss me!"

"Stop yelling."

"Not 'till ya kiss me!"

She shakes her head. "You're slurring your words. What are you saying?"

"KISS! ME!" Dean yells clearly.

"Porca troia! If I do, will you shut the hell up?"

He nods, laughing madly. Christ, morphine fucks him up. Wonder what it'd take to convince the doctors to let him bring some home with him so he could be this high, this happy, this free, for the rest of his miserable life. Although Sam would definitely not approve. Dean stifles a snort as he can see Sam and his disapproving head shake, pursing his lips at his older brother and making 'tsking' sounds.

"Sammy doesn't like it when I'm drunk," Dean says to Bella, matter-of-factly.

"I think getting morphine for pain is a little different than drinking an entire bottle of Jack," remarks Bella, her fingers running through Dean's hair.

He closes his eyes at the feeling and nods seriously.

"You're th' smartest person ever."

"Just call me Descartes."

"Who?" says Dean, cracking open one eye.

"No one," Bella says soothingly. "Just go to sleep, yeah?"

"Still haven't kissssed meeee," Dean mumbles, close to sleep.

Sheets rustle and then Dean feels her kiss him gently. He sighs deeply, feeling his racing heart and mind slow. Whether it be from the morphine or from Bella, he finally relaxes.

"Sogni d'oro, il mio amore," whispers Bella.

"'Soni doro', you too," says Dean, 100% positive he said that exactly right.

He waits until she's curled up next to him and when she is, with her hand splayed on his chest, Dean lets himself dream again.

* * *

 **Fucking cutie pies! Sorry for the mini torture scenes, guys! Hope you liked the fluff though!**

 **Our song of the day is "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The Ramones.**


	17. Hello, Goodbye

_"You say stop (I can stay) and I say go go go (Till it's time to go)."_

 ** _Two Months Later (May 13, 2009)_**

Silently, Dean gets up from his chair and moves to the window. Clouds are moving quickly through the sky, darkening the earth along with Dean's mood. He takes a drink of the beer Bobby had offered him and fiddles with the ring from Bella. It had been two months since he'd seen her and still Dean has yet to take it off. Just like the amulet from Sam, Dean doubts he'll ever take Bella's ring off. He stares outside, as though Bobby's salvage yard holds the key to the universe. His little brother is an addict. A demon blood junkie and had left Dean alone to go with Ruby (a demon Sam had slept with) to kill Lilith (another demon that, Sam had not, luckily, slept with) and prevent the apocalypse that Dean had inadvertently started.

"Dean!" Bobby says loudly. "Are you even hearin' a word I'm sayin', boy?"

"Yeah. But I ain't callin' him, Bobby."

Dean hears Bobby make a noise of derision.

"Don't make me get my gun."

"We are," Dean turns to face Bobby, "Damn near kickoff for Armageddon. Don't you think we got bigger fish at the moment?"

"I know you're pissed, and I'm not makin' apologies for what he's done, but he's your-"

"My blood, yeah, I've heard it all before."

"He's your brother and he's drownin'!" Bobby snaps.

"Bobby, I tried to help him. I did. Look what happened," says Dean, throwing an arm out as if to say 'now what?'

"Then try again."

Dean shakes his head. "It's too fuckin' late."

"It's never too late."

"No! Damn it, no! Look Bobby, we gotta face the facts. Sam never wanted to be part of this family. He hated this life growin' up. Hell, he ran away to Stanford first chance he got. Now it's like déjà fuckin' vu all over again."

He shakes his head again, collapsing in the chair he had vacated less than two minutes again. Swigging his beer, Dean rubs a hand over his face.

"Well guess what? I'm done. Screw him. He can do whatever the hell he wants."

"You don't mean that, Dean," Bobby says gruffly.

"Yeah, I do. Sam's gone. He left! He picked a demon over this family, over me! I don't even- I don't even know if I can call him my brother anymore."

"You stupid, stupid son of a bitch!" Bobby explodes. "Well, boohoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! Are you under the impression that family is supposed to make you feel good? Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They're ** _supposed_** to make you miserable! That's why they're family!"

Dean springs to his feet and gets in Bobby's face. He has about four inches on the older hunter, but Bobby doesn't back down, glaring still at Dean.

"I told him, 'you walk out that door, don't come back' and he walked out anyway! That was his choice! I didn't push him out the door, Bobby!"

"You sound like a whiny brat. Just like your father. Too cowardly to tell Sam how you really feel. Too cowardly to fight for him!"

"My dad was a lotta things, Bobby, but a coward? Low blow."

"He'd rather push Sam away than reach out to him! You are a hell of a lot better of a man than your daddy was-"

"-Bobby-"

"-Just do us both a favor and don't be him."

"Whatever," says Dean darkly, standing again and returning to the window.

His fingers touch the glass and he starts tapping out the beat to "Smoke on the Water." It's a song that always seems to calm him down. Lightning streaks across the sky and it illuminates a small figure standing a few yards away from Bobby's front door. Dean stops his tapping and wipes at the fogged glass to try to get a better look. The rain is making it next to impossible to even see Bobby's porch, let alone who is standing outside.

"Bobby," says Dean. "Someone's outside."

"Someone? Or somethin'?"

"Can't tell. Rain's blockin' the view."

"Damn it," Bobby swears, walking over to the same window and cocking his sawed off.

The two hunters stand there, both staring hard through the window. The figure hasn't moved and seems to be just staring at the house. Wind whips strands of hair around their face as they step closer. Lightning illuminates the figure again for merely a second and if Dean wasn't as good a hunter as he was, he would have missed it. But he sees a familiar leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans. Too high black heels and what looks to be dark red hair.

"Wait," says Dean. "It's Bella."

"Who?"

But he ignores Bobby as he goes for the door. It slams loudly behind him as he strides outside and into the rain towards her.

"Bells!" he calls.

She turns at the sound of his voice and smiles.

"I did end up at the right house!" Bella shouts over the rain.

Dean nods, relief flooding his body. She's okay. She's here. For him. It'll be okay. Bella walks closer and he stifles a small noise of surprise. Her lip is split, bleeding. Her right cheek is bruised and her nose looks bent out of shape.

"What happened?" says Dean seriously, cupping her face in his hands.

"Demons. Lilith's, I think. They don't take too kindly to witches who try to interfere. They think we should all be on the same side."

Carefully, Dean wipes the stray drops of blood from her nose.

"You didn't have to come," he says.

"You think I was going to let you deal with this by yourself?"

"I didn't even think you would get my messages."

"I did. And here I am," says Bella.

"You wanna come in? Put some ice on that nose?"

She nods. "Sure. Thanks."

Dean drapes a protective arm around her shoulders. Bella buries herself into his side, shivering from the rain. He steers her to Bobby's front door and they step inside. Immediately, Bobby is there, holding out two towels.

"Here," he says gruffly.

Taking them both, Dean wraps one around Bella's torso and then uses the other one to wipe off her face.

"Ice. We need ice, Bobby."

"I'll get some."

"It's not that bad," Bella pipes up.

"Shut up," commands Dean. "You're hurt."

"Not too badly."

"Just shut up and lemme take care of you."

She rolls her eyes and it's such a comforting thing to Dean at that second. He feels a comforting warmth spread across his chest and all he wants to do is hold Bella close.

"All right. Don't throw a bitch fit," she sighs.

Bella takes the second towel Dean hands her and wipes gingerly at her face. Then she untangles the rubber band from her sopping hair and rubs the red, dark blue, and purple strands vigorously. Bella wraps her hair in that weird way that chicks do and straightens up again, taking the bag of frozen peas that Bobby hands her and places them on her cheek.

"C'mere," says Dean.

She agrees, plopping herself down on Bobby's musty old couch right next to Dean. She winces when he touches a damp paper towel to her split lip.

"That hurt?" he asks.

"No," Bella whispers, screwing up her face in pain.

"You're a terrible liar, sweetheart."

"One of the demons had some kind of diamond ring on. When they punched me in the mouth, it dragged across my chin and took some of my lip with it."

"Assholes," grunts Dean savagely.

"They're demons. It's what they do. It's okay."

"No, it's not. You look fuckin' awful."

"I could say the same for you. Been getting much sleep lately?"

He shrugs. "Take a wild guess."

"I'm going to say no."

"Right on."

Her lip's done bleeding and Dean pulls the paper towel away.

"What's the diagnosis, Doctor Winchester?"

He smiles. "You'll live."

She smiles in return and Dean throws and arm around her shoulders. Bella then groans heavily and puts her head on his shoulder.

"I could really go for a fucking blunt right now, kid."

Dean laughs. "Me too. Would beer help?"

"I guess. If that's all you got."

Dean hands her his bottle of beer and Bella takes a drink just as Bobby wanders over to sit on across from Dean.

"Well?" says Bobby.

"Bobby," Dean starts. "This is Bella. Bella, Bobby."

"Hi," she says, holding out her hand.

Bobby takes it suspiciously, but shakes it nonetheless. He leans back in his chair and regards Bella with a steely gaze.

"Rob Anderson's your dad?"

"My adopted father, yes."

"What are you doin' here?"

"Um, well-"

Dean clears his throat. "I texted her."

Bobby turns his gaze to Dean.

"We needed help trackin' Sam."

"And you asked her to come?" says Bobby. "Why?"

"Wherever Ruby took Sam is warded," murmurs Bella. "Nothing can get through. Nothing the demons are used to, anyway."

"Meanin'?" asks Bobby.

"Meaning we call up something that Ruby has never dealt with before to help us track her."

"Which is what, Bells?"

She looks at Dean, her eyes sparking to life.

"Vodou loa."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Hell no!"

Bella rolls her eyes again.

"I knew you two would complain."

"Vodou is dangerous," says Dean decisively.

"I know. Thanks for the update."

"We don't have time for her to play 'priestess', Dean," Bobby says harshly. "We gotta find Sam now."

"I'm not callin' any angels, Bobby," Dean says.

"So, Loa then?" Bella says.

"No!" Bobby and Dean chorus.

Bella huffs, flopping back against the couch.

"Call Castiel," Bobby says.

Dean shakes his head. "I can't deal with him right now."

"We're runnin' out of choices here, Dean! Sam's gotta be ready to kill Lilith any second now!"

"Don't you think I know that? But maybe it ain't a bad thing if he does!"

"He kills her, that demon blood inside him is gonna take control, Dean!"

"Wait a minute," Bella interrupts. "That's what you're worried about?"

"Yes, it is," Bobby snaps.

"You mean; you don't know?"

"Know what?" says Bobby, annoyed.

Dean knows that Bobby absolutely hates it when someone knows something that he doesn't. Especially when that someone is a witch who may or may not turn out to be their enemy in the long run.

"Sam kills Lilith, he sets Lucifer free," Bella says. "How in the fuck did that information not get passed along?"

"Uh, no. He kills Lilith to end Lucifer's reign for good," Bobby says.

"Wrong. She's the last seal."

Silence. A long, stretching silence.

Dean is the first to speak. "Bells, a-are you sure?"

"Deadly. It's written in our satanic bible. Not The Satanic Bible, but one that was written by natural born witches centuries before Anton LaVey was a twinkle in his mother's eye. Every single seal's in it. And the last one reads 'And the first tainted soul to be created will be the sacrifice. As it dies, so shall He rise.' So if Sam kills Lilith, the first demon Lucifer created, mind you, then-"

"Lucifer goes topside," finishes Dean. "Son of a bitch."

"Damn straight," Bella says, nodding.

"Ruby's double teaming then," Dean snarls.

"She played you all, huh?"

Dean snorts. "I guess fuckin' so. Damn it."

"So now what are we doin'?" says Bobby.

"Call the Vodou loa," Bella says.

"Damn it, Bella! Would you give that a rest?" Bobby shouts.

"Why?"

"It ain't somethin' you can just play with willy nilly! It's dangerous and you have to know what you're doing!"

"Look Bobby, I know you're older than me and think you know these things but-"

" ** _Excuse me?_** I 'think' I know these things? I don't think. I know. And I know that this is not the time for you to try and call up ancient monsters because you have an itch to, damn it!"

Bella looks exasperated.

"Bobby, listen-"

"End of discussion!"

"ENOUGH!" yells Dean. "CHRIST, ENOUGH!"

Bella glares. "I've been learning real Hoodoo and Vodou for seven years. Can I say the same for either of you?"

Dean and Bobby share a glance.

"I didn't think so. Now, if you stupid hunters are done, I'll be out by that crossroads calling up some Loa to help us find Sam."

"There has to be an easier way, Bells," Dean says quietly.

"There's not. Ruby was trained as a traditional witch. So traditional witchcraft will be no help here. We want to find your brother; we need help from other spirits."

Dean thinks this through. And yeah okay, he's starting to see her point.

"Dean, I still think we should just call Castiel," says Bobby.

"No angels, Bobby. No angels."

He rubs a hand down his face. Vodou loa. Angels. Vodou loa. Angels. Pros and cons. Well, angels are asswads. Dean has never met any Loa, but maybe a few of them are pretty nice guys? Next, angels are really against Lucifer going topside. Maybe the Loa won't even care and decide not to help, leaving them back at square one. Lastly, Dean knows (mostly) what to expect with Castiel. These Loa are wild cards. But Bella's been working close to them for close to seven years. Maybe she's formed a relationship with a few of them?

Dean takes a breath. "Bells, tell me what I can do to help you. And talk fast before I change my mind."

Bobby looks up sharply, glowering at Dean, who just ignores it. He's way too used to Bobby's glares.

"All right," Bella says. "I was hoping you'd agree. I'll need some cornmeal, rum, a straw hat, a walking stick or cane, and a corncob pipe."

"What for?" Dean asks.

"Offerings. To please him."

"To please who?"

"Papa Legba."

"I got some rum," Bobby says grudgingly. "And cornmeal. And a pipe. Need tobacco?"

"Uh, yes please," Bella says, rummaging through her bag and muttering to herself, "Okay, got a white candle and a red one... Oh, here's a few pennies, good. Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?" Dean hears Bobby grunt from the other room.

"Do you have any cassava bread?"

"Any **_what?_** "

"Right, never mind! Can you make me a piece of toast?"

"The hell do you need toast for?" Bobby says, still grumpy as he sets down a bottle of rum, an old corncob pipe, a can of cornmeal, and a tin of tobacco.

"As an offering."

"Fine."

"I have a straw hat in the Impala's trunk. That good?" asks Dean.

"Why do you have a straw hat?" Bella says, her mouth quirking up in an amused grin.

"Sam and I had to pretend to be part of some farmer's association during this one hunt. Guess I've never gotten rid of it. Will the Loa mind if it's a little dirty?"

"Nah. Papa's a pretty chill kind of guy."

"So I gotta ask, how'd a European witch get caught up in Haitian Vodou?" wonders Dean.

"Common misconception. Anyone can be a part of it. If Papa likes you, he'll let you know it."

"How'd he let you know it?"

"Well," she starts. "I was thirteen and still trying to work on my astral travel. During one trip, I found myself just captivated by this one spot in the road. I probably stared at it for five minutes before this old man with a cane appeared. It surprised me so much that I was jolted back into the physical world. Come to find out, the place I visited while in the astral plane was just a few blocks away from my house in the physical plane. And it was a crossroads. A few books and a visit to this little old New Orleans Voodoo queen told me everything I needed to know. Papa saw me, chose me, liked me. We've been close ever since. See this charm?"

She holds up one of the necklaces that sits around her neck. It's a plain looking silver disk with a symbol carved into it.

"What is it?" asks Dean.

"Papa Legba's veve. It's his symbol. His calling card, basically. It helps me to remember the very first spirit that ever made his presence known to me. I can usually always feel him in the back of my mind. Anyway, I think I've got everything. Are you ready?"

"What do I have to do?"

"He'll enter my body in order for you to speak with him. As someone who isn't well acquainted with him, you'll need an extra push. Just be kind, keep your wits about you, and ask him if he's willing to tell you where Ruby took Sam. Can you do that?"

Dean nods.

"Good. Let's go then."

* * *

 **I was dying to put in my favorite Bobby Singer quote! Anyway, thank you for reading! :) SotD: "Hello, Goodbye" by The Beatles.**


	18. Magic Dance

**(REWRITTEN!)**

 **I have returned with a new chapter involving some of Bella's Vodou and Dean's glimpse into the world of 'magik'! Get pumped!**

 **SotD is "Magic Dance" by David Bowie- written for the amazing, trippy movie with bad acting ( _Labyrinth)_ :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _"What kind of magic spell to use? Slime and snails? Or puppy dog's tails?"_

 ** _May 13, 2009_**

The gravel leading out to Bobby's scrap yard crunches under Bella's shoes. She'd chosen to wear a pair of stiletto shoes that Annie had updated for her friend by putting spikes in the back of each. Bella regrets wearing them, seeing as how she'll have to dance in order to get Papa Legba's attention. It had been a long time since she had danced for him. Usually, she could just go to a crossroads and hum a little prayer and he'd approach her. But with Dean here, Papa now needs a little push. Dean's a stranger. A hunter. And Bella isn't sure if Papa will be too willing to talk to a hunter. Especially after what happened to his friend and equal, the Guédé loa, Ghede. He had been called by a group of hunters who had murdered a Vodou priest in order to attack the loa. With enchanted guns and knives, they'd attacked Ghede brutally. Bella had felt Legba's anger and thirst for revenge throbbing in her head for weeks. The hunters eventually got their comeuppance when Baron Samedi and Met Kalfou (the darker opposites of Ghede and Legba, respectively) went after them and took away their souls, leaving their bodies as food for the wolves.

"You scared?" she asks Dean.

He'd been very quiet ever since they had stepped out of Bobby's house and began heading for the previously scoped out crossroads.

"I dunno," he says, twirling the straw hat for Papa in his hands. "Should I be?"

"Papa can read your heart. He'll know if you get nervous and want to reach for a weapon. He hasn't taken too kindly to hunters since a group of you went after one of his friends Ghede."

"What'd they do? Kill the guy?"

"Kill him?" snorts Bella. "Yeah, right. Not even close. They just trussed him up a bit. But Papa was so mad that I could feel it burning into my skull. I had headaches for two weeks until he got his revenge. He sent his opposite and Ghede's opposite after them."

"What happened?"

"Baron Samedi and Met Kalfou took the hunters' souls. Then left their bodies for carnivores and scavengers to eat."

She reaches down and slides her shoes off her feet, glancing at Dean as she straightens back up.

"You never want to mess with Petro loa like Kalfou. They're the hot loa. Some think of them as demons. And Baron Samedi is the dark to Ghede's light. So you can bet that together, Samedi and Kalfou know how to get revenge."

"What's-uh-Legba?"

"He's not a Petro loa, if that's what you mean. You don't have to be scared of Papa. He's wise. Very kind, likes to joke, and teach lessons. Respect him, and he'll respect you right back. Laugh with him and he'll laugh too. He collects the pennies I give him and in turn, protects me. Especially during astral travel. Don't be nervous."

"I hate crossroads," mutters Dean.

"Crossroads aren't just for Christian demons. They're the hotspot for any being not of this world wanting to pass over. Have you heard of the legend of Robert Johnson?"

"Yeah. Sam and I took a case. He released demons who stuck around and took souls until we ended it. Sold his soul for talent."

"Ah, I was hoping you'd say that. Johnson actually called on loa for his talent. But then, at the end of the ritual, he never had Papa close the gates, which allowed real demons to cross over."

Dean frowns. "But hellhounds killed him."

"So maybe that was the Judeo-Christian version of things."

"What's the truth then?"

She shrugs. "No one knows for sure."

"Uh-huh," says Dean doubtfully.

They've arrived. Bella stops directly in the middle of the crossroads and sets her bag down. She lays out the bottle of rum, the pipe and tobacco, and the slice of toast she had Bobby make. She pulls out the can of cornmeal and begins to sprinkle it into a shape. She watches Dean watch her and she can see he wants to ask questions. So many questions, she's sure. American hunters are not used to Vodou at all. Some have never even heard of it before.

"What's that again?"

"Papa's veve," explains Bella. "I do it in cornmeal like they do in Haiti. He told me he likes it better this way."

"So how many religions do you practice?" Dean asks.

"Natural borns are all over the place. They're different than humans in the way that they have one foot in the physical world, but another foot farther in the astral world. It's not a matter if I believe in Christianity, Wicca, Paganism, Satanism, Vodou or whatever. It's whichever deities call to me. Which ones I've met in my astral travels before. For me personally, obviously Hecate. Greek. Queen Mother of Witches and the crossroads. Baast. Egyptian. Protective cat goddess. Persephone. Greek. Queen of the Underworld. Papa Legba. Haitian Vodou. Powerful and can run between worlds so fast that it makes me dizzy. As long as I respect them equally, they don't care if they're all from different religions. And I do respect them all," Bella stands, brushing cornmeal from her hands, "Can I have the hat?"

"Sure. Here."

She sets it next to the pipe, then dumps a bag of pennies on the ground.

"Eighteen pennies. Papa likes things in threes. Ready?"

"I guess."

"Okay. When it comes time and he's here, give him this as another offering."

Dean looks confused. "Feathers?"

"He likes roosters."

Bella bends and shucks her jacket off. Setting it, along with her heels, aside, Bella pulls out an iPod and starts up some music. A pulsing beat begins to play, filled with lots of drums and quiet chanting in the background. She had recorded her friends calling on Papa Legba in order to use the recording at a later time whenever she needed it.

"Here we go," she says.

Dean makes a face. "Awesome."

"It'll be okay, Winchester. Trust me."

She walks closer to the cornmeal veve and begins to dance the way she was taught. All hips and quick feet. Seductive to the untrained eye, based on Dean's little shudder of desire that Bella doesn't miss. The white candles for Papa are lit and Bella then closes her eyes, beginning to chant in Haitian Creole.

"Papa Legba, louvri pòtay yo. Pitit ou yo ap tann. Papa Legba, tanpri louvri pòtay yo. Pitit ou yo ap tann. Papa Legba, louvri pòtay yo. Pitit ou yo ap tann. Papa Legba, tanpri louvri pòtay yo. Pitit ou yo ap tann. Papa Legba, louvri pòtay yo. Pitit ou yo ap tann. Papa Legba, tanpri louvri pòtay yo. Pitit ou tann."

Dean's entire body shakes and his limbs contort in an unnatural position. Bella gasps in surprise and rushes to his side, helping him to stand again. His eyes open and instead of whiskey soaked grass, there's bright, piercing sky blue. Bella lets out a little happy noise and hands Papa Legba his hat and pipe. Leaning on a walking stick, Papa packs the pipe full of tobacco and it lights by itself. He puffs on it, regarding Bella in Dean's body.

"Hello Papa," she says.

He smiles a bit. "Hello, child."

"I opened my mind for you," Bella says carefully.

Papa's face drops into a scowl. "I do not trust hunters after what they did to Ghede."

"I understand," she says, bowing her head respectfully. "And I don't blame you. I would have done the same thing."

"Those of us that do not fit into hunters' definitions of 'safe' are the ones that are persecuted the most."

"You can say that again," Bella says sadly. Then as an afterthought, she adds, "They took out Dani, Papa."

"Yes, child. Your soul has been heavy ever since."

"And they've been chasing the other coven," she continues, going on a tangent, "As though we're the ones trying to raise Lucifer!"

"Humans will always be scared of your power and where it comes from."

"I know. I just wish they weren't. It's not like I asked for it, you know?"

"Anything out of the norm is always seen as dangerous, child. Remember that."

"I will. And I understand. But..."

"That does not mean you like it, no. And you do not have to like it. Fear is a terrible thing, dear one. It makes humans do, what is the phrase you used once before? Ah, 'some crazy shit'."

Bella smiles. "You're right, as usual."

"Yes, of course. Now then," says Papa, tapping Bella on the shoulder with his stick. "Why have you called me, little one?"

"As you know, the Judeo-Christian apocalypse is coming..."

Papa nods, half listening as he looks down at the rooster feathers at his feet.

"Dean Winchester's brother Sam is going to kill the first demon that the Christian devil created. And in doing so, Lucifer will rise."

"And why is that any of my concern?"

"Papa, please," says Bella softly. "You and I both know what Satan will try to do with me and my sisters."

He looks up from his handful of pennies.

"I do."

"So you understand that we need to know where the demon Ruby took Sam Winchester. We need to stop them."

"Child, these things cannot be stopped. You know that."

Bella sighs. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"You know how the Judeo-Christian end times began, and you know how they will end," continues Papa.

"But there's no harm in trying, right?"

Papa smiles, this one a real, genuine show of affection that Bella feels wash over her like a warm wave of seawater.

"If it will make you and Dean Winchester feel better, I will show you where Sam Winchester is."

Bella raises an eyebrow. "Quick change of your song there, Papa."

"I can feel how much this Dean Winchester means to you. Forgive me, but is he the one you cannot stop thinking about at night before you come into my domain?"

There's no use in lying to any powerful being, least of all Papa Legba. Bella can feel her face growing hot.

"He is."

"He cares for you too," Papa remarks.

"It's complicated, Papa."

"Love is not complicated, pitit cheri mwen. Perhaps one of these days I will get Erzulie Freda to visit you in your astral travels and talk to you about love."

"Papa, please don't tease," says Bella, but she's smiling again.

He returns her smile and gently nudges the underside of her jaw with Dean's finger.

"All right. Sing me a song and I will tell you where you can find Sam Winchester, little one."

"Would you like it in Haitian or in English, Papa?" asks Bella.

"A song in your native tongue instead, I think. It's a nice language, don't you agree?"

She smiles, pleased that he thinks so. "Of course, Papa."

"Sing please."

"I've got a good one for you. It's called "Ninna Nanna." It's in Neopolitan and my Babbo used to sing it to me sometimes."

She takes a breath and begins to sing for her Papa Legba. He closes Dean's eyes, concentrating.

"Ninna nanna marinare. 'Ngopp a varca, miezo o mare. Lo te parl e nun respunn. Te si perze miez o suonn. Te vurria magna' de vas. Ma ho paura e te sceta'. Cosi' guarde da luntane. Co'stu core innammurat. Quann aggia' spetta. D'averti questa sera. Co' sta luna chiena? Quann aggia' sogna'. Di dirti quanto t'amo-"

"I am very sorry to interrupt, but I have found Sam Winchester," Papa says.

Bella stops abruptly. "That's great! Where is he, Papa?"

"He is in a convent called Saint Mary's. It is in a place called Ilchester, Maryland."

"Maryland? Shit, that's far."

"He plans to kill the demon Lilith tomorrow. It is an eighteen hour ride in those tin human contraptions. You may not make it in time, child."

Bella bites her lip, thinking. "But we have to try."

"What have I always told you? You cannot change fate," Papa says solemnly.

"I know. Still-"

"-still you have the urge to try, I understand," he smiles briefly again. "You are a stubborn one, Isabella Rossi."

"So I've been told."

Papa walks over to the bottle of rum on the ground. It's always strange to see him when he's possessing another person. He makes their limbs contort as though they are crippled, but when he moves, the possessed dance across the earth, feet barely skimming the dirt underneath them. Never think of Papa Legba as a crippled old man. A lesson Bella has never forgotten. Uncapping the bottle, the loa takes a deep drink of the liquor. He nods in satisfaction, smacking his lips together. Taking the pennies off the ground, Papa returns to Bella. He has the rooster feathers tucked into the straw hat.

"Thank you for coming. I know it isn't your day," says Bella.

"I always come when you call, do I not?"

"Yeah, you do."

"And I am your favorite, am I not?"

She laughs. "You know I can't play favorites with those who watch over me."

"No, you cannot. Lest Bastet and her army of pussycats claw your eyes out," Papa says.

"Hey," Bella says. "Baast and I are pals. She was a pretty big deal in her prime."

"And yet still, she spends her time caring for her pussycats instead of her human wards."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

Papa grins playfully, the expression making crinkles appear around Dean's eyes.

"That was a beautiful song you sang to me. Next time, I expect a different one. In Latin, if you feel so inclined."

"You don't want to hear my Haitian Creole?" teases Bella.

"Your Haitian Creole can barely be understood. You are very lucky I even decide to show up at all with the way you speak it!" Papa jibes, his blue eyes sparkling.

He then picks up the remainder of the pennies and the last rooster feather.

"I will be keeping this hat," he says. "And this tin of tobacco."

"I don't think Bobby will mind. Keep the rum too, if you want."

"Thank you. I think I will," Papa looks thoughtful. "You know that most other spirits will not be as helpful as me, child. This war is between Christianity's angels and Christianity's demons. It is no one else's problem, but theirs."

"I understand, Papa. Sort of."

"I am afraid you may learn this lesson the hard way, soon enough."

Papa sets the corncob pipe back down on the ground next to the cornmeal veve. He tips his hat at Bella, who smiles again.

"Good luck. And I hope to see you in my realm soon enough."

She waves at him. "Thank you. See you, Papa. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye!"

On the last goodbye, Dean's eyes flash back to green and he crumples to the ground again. Bella rushes to help him up, but Dean grumbles angrily at her as he picks himself up from the dirt.

"Thought you said he'd possess you."

Bella shrugs. "Papa doesn't always do what you think he will."

"Friggin' creepiest thing ever," proclaims Dean. "Never again."

"He helped us, Winchester. Sam's in Ilchester, Maryland. Saint Mary's Convent."

Dean checks his watch. "Shit. That'll take at least eighteen hours. We gotta move."

"You want me to come?"

"Yeah," says Dean. "That dude was in my head sayin' I'd need your help or some shit."

"You probably will."

He scoffs. "I'm sure."

"Mhm."

"Whatever."

But he grins down at her in a weirdly grateful way and throws an arm across her shoulders. Bella grabs his fingers and curls up into Dean's side. With everything packed away and the cornmeal veve brushed from the crossroads, the two make their way back to the Impala as the dark clouds finally break and a spot of sunlight streams down. Bella sets her bag in the backseat and then slides into the passenger side, tapping her fingers on the window as Dean runs up to Bobby's door to tell him what went down. Bella finds a hoodie in her giant bag and pulls on the sweatshirt, curling herself into the warmth of it. A Taylor Swift song works its way to the forefront of Bella's brain and she starts singing to herself.

"Because these things will change, can you feel it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down. This revolution, the time will come for us to finally win. And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah! Oh, oh!"

"What are you so jazzed about?" says Dean, climbing into the driver's seat.

"Not sure. I just have a song stuck in my head."

"What song?"

"Change" by Taylor Swift."

He makes a face. "Gross."

"Hey, she has some really good songs!" Bella defends.

"You have a shitty taste in music, Rossi."

"Well, what do you want me to sing? "Anarchy in the UK"?"

"No, let's **_not_** sing that," Dean fiddles with his radio, "I'll play somethin' instead."

"Party pooper."

"Hey, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts her cakehole, Bells. I don't make the rules."

Some '80's hairband starts to play loudly with screeching guitars, heavy drumbeats, and a yelp from the lead singer. Bella covers her ears in pain as Dean does a bit of air guitar.

"WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THIS?" she shouts.

"IT'S METALLICA! "MASTER OF PUPPETS!" replies Dean, still spazzing out.

"YOU'RE DEDICATED TO HOW I'M **_KILLING_** YOU?" Bella shrieks. "WHAT THE FUC- MERDA, CAN YOU TURN IT DOWN?!"

"NOPE!"

"DEAN!"

She reaches over to the sound dial, but he slaps her hand away.

"GOOD TRY!"

"MY EARS ARE FUCKING BLEEDING, YOU ASSHAT! UGH!"

Throwing herself dramatically backwards, Bella sits silently in her seat, wincing at each growl from the lead singer. Whose name escapes her. Hmm, what is it? Gene Simmons? No, that's the tongue guy from Kiss... Let's see, Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Bonham, Axl Rose, David Lee Roth, Sammy Hagar, no. Oh! Paul Rudd! Yes! Thank you! Bella gives herself a mental high five just as Dean seems to take pity on her poor ears and flips the volume dial.

"Why does Paul Rudd sing like that? His vocal cords have to be all kinds of fucked up, right?" she remarks.

"What?" says Dean. "Paul Rudd?"

"Yeah. The lead singer of Metallica."

"Paul Rudd is an actor, Bells," Dean says.

"No, he's in Metallica."

He makes a face. "No, he was in the _Anchorman_ movies."

"No, he's the screaming guy in your radio," Bella says stubbornly.

"No, he was in _The 40-Year Old Virgin._ Paul Rudd's a movie star."

"No, he's the singer in Metallica. I know it!"

"Don't you think I'd know more about them, my favorite band, than you would?"

"Fine," says Bella. "Then who am I thinking of?"

Dean fights back a grin.

"Probably _**Phil** _ Rudd," he says.

"Aha! I knew there was a Rudd in Metallica!" says Bella.

"But he was a drummer-"

"I was almost right," Bella cuts him off.

"-In AC/DC."

Bella stops her victorious cheering and Dean wants to laugh at her.

"What?"

"Phil Rudd was a drummer for AC/DC!" says Dean. "Not a lead singer for Metallica!"

"Vaffanculo," Bella says, her cheeks reddening.

"Oh, c'mon, you shoulda known that!"

She pouts. "Why? It's not like I listen to them."

"Still. That was a little sad," he teases.

"Rude," says Bella with a huge yawn.

"What's up with you?"Dean asks.

She yawns again. "Tired. Tired, tired, tired. Too much magic so late at night. I'm a little drunk."

"On what? You had like one sip of beer."

"We call it being magic drunk. Whenever we use our power so much in such a short period of time, we get this feeling. It's kind of like drinking really bubbly champagne and the carbonation rushes to your head and gets you drunk faster. Makes you sleepy, warm, and a little dizzy," Bella twirls her finger in a circle for effect. "Get it?"

"Kinda," Dean gives her half of a grin. "You should get some sleep."

"Mmmkay," coos Bella, stretching her legs out in front of her.

The Impala is rumbling peacefully over the highway as she lays her head on the seat. Bella has always been one to be able to fall asleep in a moving car in no time flat. There's just something so inherently relaxing to her about the way the wheels roll calmly over the roads. Dean has the windows open a crack and the evening air is sweet and warm as it blows across her face, making strands of wild hair escape her ponytail and tickle her cheeks until she gets irritated and tugs her sweatshirt hood over her head in a half asleep daze. Bella lays back down and sighs when Dean turns the music up louder. This time though, he's playing The Beatles. She smiles to herself, her heart squeezing beautifully in her chest at how considerate he is. And then Bella dreams.

* * *

 **I tried my best with the Vodou stuff but I am not an expert. If I offended _anyone_ with my portrayal, I apologize. I never mean upset people when I write. **

**(Haitian Creole chant/translation:**

 ** _Papa Legba, louvri pòtay yo: Papa Legba, open the gates_**

 ** _Pitit ou yo ap tann: Your children are waiting_**

 ** _Papa Legba, tanpri louvri pòtay yo: Papa Legba, please open the gates_**

 ** _Pitit ou tann: Your children await_ )**

* * *

 **Song Bella sang (without spaces- I hate that you can't post links)** **www. metrolyrics pink-martini-ninna-nanna-pink-martini-ml-video-vqn . html**


	19. The Devil Went Down to Georgia

**LUCIFER CHAPTER! DuH dUh DUHHHH**

 **Sorry for that... I get too excited?**

* * *

 _"And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold. But if you lose, the devil gets your soul."_

 ** _Seventeen Hours Later_**

He doesn't realize what's happened until his eyes open. Dean makes a noise of discomfort as light shines in his eyes. There's something warm on his thigh. He glances down and almost jolts in surprise, but stops himself at the last minute just in case he wakes Bella up. Her head is on his lap, her face turned towards his stomach and he can feel the little puffs of air that escape her pouted lips sticking hotly to his t-shirt. She's curled up in a little ball, shaking a bit from the cool air wafting in from the open windows. Dean glances at the dashboard. Six thirty in the morning and they have an hour to go before they have to be in Ilchester. He shifts in his seat and curses lowly. Such a fucking bad time to get a damn hard-on. Bella's so warm and her hair is spread all over his legs, as though he had playing with her curls before he too had fallen asleep. Dean lets the corners of his mouth quirk up as his fingers go to investigate. Bella stirs slightly when his fingers get caught on a tiny knot. Dean combs it through and she sighs, burrowing deeper into his lower stomach. Sinfully close to his dick and he wants to push her off; still, he doesn't touch her. She's so fucking peaceful curled into his body that Dean's heart clenches tightly as a feeling that's a bit stronger than friendship makes itself known to him. It's a fondness he hasn't felt in such a long time. Jesus, he wants her to wake up so he can kiss her breathless. The sun is peeking over the horizon, painting the sky a soft blue melted with splashes of orange and calming yellow. A movement on his lap has Dean glancing down again. Bella lifts her head from his thigh and rubs her eye.

"Where are we?" she asks drowsily.

"A few miles away," Dean says, suddenly entranced by her.

Bella runs a hand through her hair and sits up a little bit more. She blinks those bright green eyes up at him and Dean looks at her mouth when she chews her lip. Bella lets her lip fall from her teeth. It's soft and wet from her tongue. As though he's not entirely in control of his body, Dean catches her chin in his fingers. She darts her eyes up to him, wildly searching his face. He gives Bella a crooked smile and draws her up for a kiss. Just before their lips meet, she smacks a hand across her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Dean says, trying his damnedest not to whine because fuck, he wants to kiss her, damn it!

"Haven't brushed my teeth," says Bella, her voice muffled.

"Okay. And?"

"It's gross."

"And I," Dean says gently, pulling her hand from her mouth, "Can't be bothered to give a crap. C'mon."

Bella lets out a small noise that sounds like a cross between a sigh of irritation and a giggle. Dean takes that as a yes and brings her up to him again. He wraps a hand around her halo of curls and she kisses him, so soft, so sweet, so Bella, that it makes Dean squirm closer to her. And she was right, it's pretty bad. They both have severe cases of morning breath, but she lets her tongue join his and when she gets her nails on Dean's scalp and scratches that one spot that makes him crazy, his mind goes blank. And when he presses her closer still and she swings a leg over his lap and sits herself down like she belongs there, the only words running through his mind are her name and constant refrains of the word mine.

Bella, mine.

Bella, mine.

 _mine_

 _mineminemineminemineminemine_

Gasping softly, they break apart and Dean watches as Bella's eyes open for him. He leans his forehead against hers and smiles again.

"You're fuckin' gorgeous. Makes me crazy."

Bella smashes her lips to his again and it's rougher this time. Dean absolutely loves this. Loves that little sweet side of her that can turn into this green eyed vixen at a moment's notice. He moves his lips to her jaw, sucking a bruise into her skin. Bella's panting when Dean's hands slide under the back of her hoodie.

She's choking out words, tugging at his hair.

"Christ, I don't want to leave. Let's just stay here and fuck until we die."

Dean groans into her neck, agreeing. Fuck the angels and their stupid apocalypse. It's just Bella and she's only wearing a bra underneath her sweatshirt and he has it undone in no time flat because he's Dean frigging Winchester. And then Bella is sliding the top from her head and Dean throws her bra somewhere on the floor of the Impala and she goes for his shirt, tugging it off his broad shoulders and then as soon as it's gone, sucks a good sized bruise into his right shoulder.

"Jesus, Bells," Dean grunts, bucking his hips up against her.

"You like that?" she says and he fucking shivers.

"Y-yeah."

She gives him another hickey on the opposite shoulder and Dean groans again, throwing his head back against the leather seat. Normally, he hates getting marked up by chicks. Nail marks down his back he can do, but hickies? There's just something so possessive about them and while Dean likes showing his weekly hump-'em-and-dump-'em girls who they belong to at that moment, he never lets them reciprocate the bruises. Dean Winchester doesn't belong to anyone. At least, not until this pretty witch with the wicked mouth came along. Sonofabitch, he'd tattoo her initials on his ass if she wanted him to. God, he's so fucking gone.

And God, she's so fucking skilled with that little tongue of hers. So maybe he doesn't care all that much about how whipped he is.

"Mm," Bella purrs against Dean's collarbones. "You look so good like this, laid out under the new sun."

He tries to chuckle in an attempt to brush everything off. It comes choked out and awkward from his throat and Bella looks up at him, eyes dancing playfully.

"Should I stop?"

"Hmm?" says Dean dreamily. "Why?"

"You don't like when I bite you," she elaborates.

"Hgh, what?"

Dean's mental processes have shorted out. He gazes up at her, jaw half unhinged, trying to figure out why she's talking instead of kissing him right now. He runs his hands up from her hips and to the sides of her tits. With wide eyes, Dean looks up at her, silently pleading for something he's not entirely sure about. She raises an eyebrow and leans forward just enough for him to get his mouth on her chest. Bella collapses into him, catching herself around Dean's neck at the last minute. A satisfied rumble resonates through him and she lets out a tiny "Gesù Cristo, cazzo" which Dean now understands to mean 'Jesus fucking Christ.'

"You like that?" he coos roughly, repeating her words.

Bella manages a very exaggerated eye roll and presses her chest closer to Dean. He laughs a little, smirking.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She huffs. "Still so cocky, Winchester."

"Still so mouthy, Rossi," replies Dean, rolling his tongue and Bella wiggles in his lap.

All of a sudden, Bella freezes. Still with her boob in Dean's mouth, she looks up from his gaze and stares out the window. A shudder runs down her spine and Dean swears her pupils grow like a cat's does when it senses prey.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his hackles raised.

"Lucifer," she says quietly. "It's almost time."

"How the hell can you tell?"

She makes a vague sounding noise and waves her hand aimlessly around the air above her head.

"I have no idea what that means, Bells."

"Sorry," she says, still staring out the window. "Sorry. I-uh- the air gets different. Lucifer makes everything colder."

"You mean hotter?"

"No, he-even though he's stuck in Hell, his blood runs cold. I was never sure why. See, look at the driver's side window."

Dean does as she says, following her finger and staring hard at the glass. After a few seconds of seeing nothing and deciding that Bella has officially lost it, he looks up at her again.

"I don't get it."

She leans forward, touching the pads of her fingers to the window and caressing the glass.

"Frost is growing. Like a bacterial infection. Like a sickness."

"I still don't see it, sweetheart."

"Lucifer's sickness," she murmurs to herself. "It's growing."

"I have no fuckin' idea what you're seein' that I ain't."

Bella smiles and runs a comforting hand down the side of Dean's face.

"It's okay. I feel like you never have needed to open your third eye to really see stuff that goes on in the astral world around us. You'll feel it in a second though."

And after a few seconds, she's right. A chill wracks its way through Dean and his teeth chatter. It's May and yet, the interior of Dean's Baby has dropped to below freezing in a matter of minutes. Dean can see his breath every time he exhales.

"Told you," says Bella, huddling closer to Dean.

He makes a mental note to not doubt her again. Just because he can't see something, doesn't necessarily mean that Bella is making it up. I mean, fuck, he learned that Vodou spirits are real not even twenty four hours ago! Bella shivers again and Dean curls his arms around her bare torso, holding her to him tightly.

"What the hell?" he mutters. "Is that puddle freezin' over?"

Bella laughs, happy he finally has noticed.

"It'll be worse the closer we get to Saint Mary's. You got any gloves?"

Dean shakes his head no.

"Damn it, where's my shirt?" he says as goosebumps prickle up his arms.

"My nipples are sticking out," says Bella looking down at her boobs, seemingly amused.

Dean flicks one of them.

"Yeah, they sure are."

Rolling off his lap and climbing back into her side of the front seat, Bella hands Dean his shirt before pulling her own sweatshirt over her head. She tucks her wild hair into the hood and tightens the strings so that she looks a bit like an Eskimo. After pulling his own shirt on and buttoning up a flannel, Dean starts up the Impala. He kept having to tell his dick to settle down, but since the cold hit, it's like a violent slap in the crotch and his boner goes almost as quickly as it came. He sucks his teeth, wishing that just for a damn minute he lived a normal life and he could continue his plan of fucking Bella until she couldn't move. But sadly, he has more pressing matters. Namely, stopping Lucifer from going topside.

"Whatta life this is," he mumbles.

"Hmm?"

"Means instead of makin' you scream my name for the next few hours, we gotta go stop the devil. Can you guess which one I'd rather be doin'?"

Out of the corner of Dean's eye, he sees Bella crack a small grin.

"Così è la vita."

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's c'est la vie in Italian. Such is life, it means in English."

"Well 'coseey la veeta', then."

She giggles. "Così è la vita."

"What'd I say?"

"'Coseey la veeta'."

"What's the difference?"

"You're forgetting the è. And a bunch of other letters. And you're pronouncing it like such an American."

Dean scoffs. "S'cuse me. Not all of us can be bilingual."

"Multilingual, actually."

"How many languages do you speak then?"

Bella thinks. "Italian's my native language. I'm fluent in English, Classical Latin, Archaic Latin, Spanish, and Cornish. I'm working on Haitian Creole and French, which I can understand better than I can speak it."

"You're a polyglot, are ya?"

"Well, no one in the modern world speaks Cornish much or Archaic Latin at all. I want to learn Gaelic, Welsh, Ancient Greek, German, Korean, and Old Norse. Natural borns have texts written in Old Norse, Archaic Latin, and Cornish, so I can learn by them."

"What is Cornish?" asks Dean, interested.

"It's a Celtic language. Apparently it died out, but a modern version is making a comeback. I learned 'Middle Cornish,' which was around the 13th century to the 17th."

"Say somethin'?"

"In what?"

"Surprise me."

"Semel mortua est et superstavit. Bis mortua est et vicit qui malus erat. Aegror suus mortuus est cum illa qui quondam erat," says Bella.

Dean glances at her from out of the corner of his eye.

"And what's that mean?"

"It's Classical Latin. It means 'she died once and survived. She died twice and conquered he who was evil. Her illness died with who she used to be'."

"Oh, c'mon, regular ol' Latin? Say somethin' in Archaic Latin. Then I'll be impressed."

"Fine. The Carmen Saliare. The Salian priests in Ancient Rome before the Republic would sing it when they did rituals for Mars and Quirinus in March and October. It goes 'divum empta cante, divum deo supplicate cume tonas, Leucesie, prae tet tremonti quot ibet etinei de is cum tonare cozeulodorieso. omnia vero adpatula coemisse. Ian cusianes duonus ceruses dunus Ianusve vet pom melios eum recum.' It talks about Janus, the god of gates and doors, thunder, and Ceres, who was the same as Demeter. That good enough for you?"

"I guess," Dean says, teasing her.

"Did you find any gloves yet?" asks Bella, blowing on her hands.

He makes a face. "I said I don't have any. Why would I carry gloves around?"

"Winchester, my fingertips are going numb," she shoves a hand in his face, "They're turning white!"

"Christ, just give me your hands, woman."

She offers him her left hand and Dean takes it, rubbing his fingers on Bella's much smaller, much softer ones.

"Better?" he says.

"Mm, much. Thanks."

He can't find it in himself to let her hand go. Dean threads his fingers in between hers, eventually settling them around her fingers and holding her hand tightly. He's comforted by this for some reason. Despite her being his sworn supernatural enemy, Dean finds the very presence of Bella relaxing. And if we're sharing secrets here, he likes it a whole damn lot. Bella shifts in her seat, leaning towards Dean and quickly presses a kiss to his cheek before Dean can even process what happened.

"Fuckin' softie," he finally says.

"Shut up," Bella jabs back, nudging her shoulder against his.

The Impala starts bumping down a gravel road, spraying up tiny rocks and bits of dirt. They're making a huge racket, one that Dean is sure the demons inside the convent can hear. He curses under his breath. Saint Mary's looms overhead as he turns a corner and he can't breath all of a sudden. What the fuck are they going to do if they're too late and Lucifer ends up topside? God, Dean is really upset with himself. He's the one who started all this! What if he can't end it and billions of people all over the world die because of him? Jesus Christ, why him?

"Are you ready?" Bella says calmly.

Dean shuts off his Baby's engine.

"Can't back out now," he answers, stepping out of the car.

Bella follows him to Baby's trunk, where Dean finds the Kurdish demon killing knife that Ruby had so stupidly gifted him with all that time ago when he thought she was on his side. He can't wait to watch her eyes grow as he stabs it into her chest. Can't wait to watch her fizzle out of the poor human girl she'd chosen as her meatsuit. Can't wait to feel her blood on his fingers. He wants the bitch dead and he wants it now!

"Let's go," Dean growls.

"Right behind you."

The doors to the convent are locked and Dean pounds a fist on them. He turns to Bella helplessly, who starts muttering something under her breath. A whoosh of air has the doors bursting open and Dean, not even waiting for Bella anymore, sprints inside. He makes his way down the halls, going around beautiful stained glass windows. A statue of the Virgin Mary is crying tears of blood and then a demon guard is on Dean's tail.

"I got him," says Bella easily.

Dean doesn't turn to watch what she does, only hears a yelp of pain and a sizzling noise. Then as he turns a final corner, he sees them: Sam and Ruby. His lip curls and he runs faster towards them, knife poised and ready to kill. Ruby's head whips around and she smirks darkly at Dean. With a flick of her wrist, she slams the doors closed. Dean meets the closed doors with heavy fists.

"SAM!" he yells. "DAMN IT, SAM DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO IT! SAMMY!"

He turns to Bella, who looks a little sick and very very pale.

"Now what?"

"I don't know," gasps Bella. "Non lo so, non lo so, non lo so, non lo so..."

"Bells, what's wrong with you?" Dean says frantically.

"Sto bene," she says, collapsing to her knees. "Aiuto Sam. Aiuto Sam. Aiuto. Aiuto. Sam. Sam. Sam."

"What?" Dean startles when all of a sudden, Bella crashes to the floor, "What the fuck! Bella?! Son of a fucking bitch, what's wrong?"

He grabs a giant candle holder and starts beating the door with it.

"OPEN, OPEN, OPEN! MOTHERFUCKING, COCK SUCKING, DOOR! FUCK!"

Helplessly, Dean turns back to Bella. She watches him with cloudy eyes and he gives her a hopeless look.

"Bells, please?"

He hates asking her to help now at the state she's in. She looks half dead already and using more of her magic could be disastrous to her body, Dean understands. But he's desperate. She barely nods and lifts her shaking limbs. She's so weak that it takes both of her arms to force the door open. Dean rushes inside and Ruby just laughs at him.

"You're too late."

"Like I give a fuck," snarls Dean.

The Winchester brothers move as one at that moment. Sam grabs Ruby from behind, restraining her as Dean stabs the knife through her chest. She flickers briefly and then crumples to the floor. Dean wipes a bit of blood from his face and turns to survey the rest of the scene. Lilith is dead. And her blood streams out onto the floor in a very deliberate manner, forming some kind of pattern.

"I'm sorry," Sam chokes out.

The pattern written in blood is complete and a blinding white light shoots from the middle of it up into the sky. The convent rumbles and toppling candles, crosses, and statues break as they hit the ground.

"Sammy, let's go," says Dean.

"Dean," Sam says brokenly. "Dean, he's coming!"

"Let's go!" Dean roars, pulling Sam out of the room and away from the light.

The statue of the Virgin Mary crying tears of blood wobbles as the brothers rush from the room. Bella lays on the floor, completely knocked out and Dean tries not to cry out for her. The Virgin Mary starts to tip over, heading right towards Bella. Dean slides to his knees, scooping her up just in time. The statue shatters and sharp pieces of ceramic fly about the room. Dean shields poor Bella's face from them, getting a few nicks on his arm in the process.

"To the car!" shouts Dean to Sam. "Now!"

"What happened to Bella?"

"I don't know! Just go!"

The Winchesters start running again, Dean still carrying a very unconscious Bella. She's really cold in his arms. Too cold to be okay. Dean has to put his face close to her nose just to feel that she's still breathing. Luckily she is, but weakly. So weakly that Dean wonders for one terrible minute that she's dead. But no, she can't be. Not Bella. Not because of Dean. She can't be dead, motherfucker! Not his Bella. Damn it, anyone but her. Dean thinks for a brief moment that if she is dead, he'd gladly trade places with her in a heartbeat. I mean, he already failed. Lucifer's topside. Might as well die saving someone he cares about, right? Shit, she's so pale and where is the fucking exit in this stupid convent? Can someone help them already? Anyone? Angels? Vodou loa? Hell, Dean'll even take that Hecate chick right about now. _Help save us. HelpsaveBella. Don't let her be dead, not because of me. Not because of me. Notbecauseofme,_ Dean chants in his head.

"Help!" Sam shouts to the broken ceiling.

"FUCK!" yells Dean.

The room starts radiating a warm, golden light. So very different than the cold white light from Lilith's body. It wraps the Winchesters up in its tendrils and Dean relaxes in its embrace. It pulls the brothers out of the ruins of the convent and just as it moves them towards the heavens, Dean passes out, remembering no more.

* * *

 **Dean and Bella are my non-canonical OTP. Just saying.**


	20. Night Moves

**I love you all so much! :)**

* * *

 _"And oh the wonder. We felt the lightning and we waited on the thunder."_

 _ **Ten Hours Later**_

"-Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area-"

 _Blip_

"-announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear-"

 _Blip_

"-a series of tremors-"

 _Blip_

"-swine flu-"

 _Blip_

Something warm lands on Bella's nose. She wiggles it and shifts in her seat, wiping at her closed eyes.

"Bells?" says a very familiar, very worried voice. "You awake, sweetheart?"

Without opening her eyes, Bella sighs.

"Dean?"

He makes a noise that sounds almost relieved and she opens her eyes a crack to look up at him. Dean holds a washcloth in his right hand and, now that she's properly paying attention, Bella can feel his other hand running soothingly through her hair.

"Are you okay?" says Dean.

"Your lap is really comfortable," Bella replies, tucking her knees up higher and shivering.

"What happened to you? When Sammy and I ran out of the main room, you were layin' on the floor, ice cold and barely breathin'."

"But I'm fine now," she says, stretching out her legs.

"But you weren't a few minutes ago," Bella hears Sam say. "Your pulse was around fifty-three when we found you and-"

"You're still so cold!" Dean interrupts. "Like the opposite of a fever!"

"Aw," coos Bella. "Were you worried about me, Winchester?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"Sweet boy," she teases. "I worry about you too."

Bella goes to sit up from Dean's lap and groans when the interior of the car starts spinning. Feeling hands on her shoulders steadying her, Bella flops back on Dean's lap, her body facing his. She gazes up at him with a slow blink.

"Wanna share with the class?" Dean asks her.

"About?"

"Why you slipped into a witchy coma?"

"First things first," Bella says. "Did Lucifer rise?"

"'Fraid so," Sam says.

"Okay," she says to herself. "That's okay. You got this Rossi."

"What happened back there?!" says Dean loudly, pointedly.

"Never gonna give this up?" she sings. "Are you?"

Dean gives her a scathing look.

"How dare you quote shitty eighties songs at me when I'm tryin' to be concerned."

"I'm really okay," says Bella, still grinning. "I promise. But I like you. So I'll let you in on a little secret, okay? You know why Lucifer was put in the Cage in the first place, right?"

"He wouldn't bow down to humans and that pissed his daddy off?" says Dean.

"Close. Lucifer did despise humans and wanted them all destroyed. He thought that by creating beings that were better than humans in every way, he would be able to scourge the world of them. So he took a little of his archangel power and mixed it with some faerie magic. And boom, the first of the natural born witches were created. And God got pissed at Lucifer, so he threw him in the Pit," she explains.

"So Lucifer is your father?" says Dean darkly.

"Oh, shut up. God is yours," counters Bella. "Besides, that was so many centuries ago."

"So you and your coven are demons then?" says Sam wearily.

"No!" Bella says sharply. "Our ancestors were created before Lucifer fell and was twisted from his stay in the Cage. Make sense?"

"Basically, you're descended from an archangel, is what you're sayin'?" Dean says.

"You got it."

"But then what does the coma have to do with any of it?"

"When he created us, Lucifer made us powerful. But as the years went by, we started getting stronger in a way he didn't think was possible and he got scared we'd kill him one day. So whenever natural borns are physically near Lucifer, he made it so our bodies would shut down. To protect his ass, pretty much. Because if we focus hard enough as a coven of nine, we could kill him."

"Your coven can kill the Devil?" Dean says in surprise. "That's awesome! Do it now!"

Bella shifts uncomfortably. "We can't anymore. There isn't nine of us."

Not to mention the fact of the so called prophecy that talks about a Righteous Man and his brother being the vessels of Michael and Lucifer, respectively. And how these brothers are the ones who have to stop the apocalypse. But Bella doesn't feel like mentioning that little factoid to said brothers who are currently biting off more than they could ever chew.

"Damn it, Bella."

She scowls. "Not my fault Dani was killed. By **_your_** kind, remember? They burned her alive? Remember that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Jesus, shove it down my throat, why don't you?"

"I'm still a little angry about it."

"Yeah, I can tell."

Bella glares. "Oh, shut up. If one of my friends killed Sam, what would you do?"

"Well," starts Dean. "I wouldn't bitch and moan about it. I'd go out an' hunt every one of you bitches down. Wouldn't take very long, would it? Not many of you left, is there?"

"Fuck you! God, you're such an asshole! Why do I still talk to you if every word out of your mouth is bigoted and psychotic?"

Dean leans down, running his nose along Bella's cheek.

"Cuz I'm the best fuck you've ever had and you know it."

Sam grunts out a warning: "Dean..."

Bella pushes herself up from Dean's lap and before he can even think, smacks him on the cheek. He catches her hand on the way back to doing it again and makes a little warning growl.

"Wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

"Fucking asshole," says Bella savagely. "Quella bocchinara di tua madre. You totally deserved that!"

"For what?"

"For being an absolute douche-fuckin-bag! Do you even have the decency to act like a human being? We deserve to live just as much as the next guy! We've never hurt anyone who didn't have it coming!"

"Not even a poor little bunny rabbit?" Dean says.

Bella stops. "What?"

"A rabbit," he says. "Witches use their blood, don't they?"

"The demonic ones, yes. We've only used cow tongue though. And our own blood."

Dean looks dumbfounded as though he never even considered this. Bella knows that's how he is though- so blinded by his prejudices to anything 'unnatural' that he sees them all as murderous and twisted. Papa Legba, as usual, was right on the money.

"Seriously?"

"I couldn't kill an animal as a ritual sacrifice, Winchester. And neither could my friends."

"But you cut the cow tongue out yourself, right?"

"No. We buy it."

"Really?"

Bella nods. In truth, natural born witches in North America had stopped using live animals during the Salem Witch Trials as a way to get the parish off their trial. And from then on, they never killed another living thing for their rituals. Freshly dead animals were stolen from hunters' traps and later, picked off busy highways. Parts from slaughterhouses are quite common too, hence the cow tongue used by Bella's coven during Hecate's Night. And if human blood was necessary, natural borns would gladly offer their own up. It's more powerful blood anyway, coming from an archangel's body.

"We may do some things Celtic Pagans did, but live sacrifice is not one of them," she says.

Dean kind of snorts. "Good on you."

"I told you we aren't evil in a conventional way."

A small smiles tugs at his lips.

"I guess I shouldn't doubt you anymore."

Bella laughs, laying back down on Dean's legs and poking him on the nose.

"You think so?"

"Probably not."

"Well, that makes you one of the good ones, yeah?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Sorry to interrupt the moment, guys," says Sam and Bella startles, momentarily forgetting he is here too. "We're here, Dean."

"Where is here?" she asks, climbing out of the car after Dean.

"This prophet Chuck's house. He called with some urgent message," explains Dean.

"A prophet?" Bella repeats. "As in one of God's fortune tellers?"

"Exactly."

"Huh. I've never met one before."

Bella goes up onto the porch and rings the doorbell. Dean strides directly (and that means directly) behind her, his fingers quivering with the desire to touch that strip of skin between her shirt and her jeans. Tired of waiting, Sam just opens the door and the three hustle inside.

"Chuck?" says Sam.

"Weird," muses Bella. "I can't feel him."

An interjection appears in the form of Sam getting hit with a plunger. The poor guy yelps in pain and grabs at his head.

"Ow!"

"Sam!" a nervous looking man yelps.

"YES!"

Bella notices how awkwardly Dean waves at the new guy.

"Hey Chuck," he says. "What's the big problem?"

"S-so, the archangel I have protecting me? He kinda blew your friend Castiel up?"

"What?" Sam says.

"H-he thought I was in danger, I guess?"

"So where did the archangel send Cas?" asks Dean.

"Nowhere. I mean, he blew up. Like a water balloon filled with Campbell's Chunky," Chuck makes an explosion sound. "Like that. Just pow. Boom. Squish."

Dean gives him a disgusted look and Chuck coughs, his face reddening.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm done."

"Great," mutters Dean. "Now Cas is gone. What next, huh?"

"I don't- I don't know," Chuck says. "I can't see anything yet. But Sam, you're okay, right?"

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Uh, well, my head hurts.."

"No! I mean, that's not what I meant. You went full on Vader back at the convent. Your body temperature was one-fifty and your heart rate was over two hundred. Your eyes were black and-"

"Your eyes were black?" Dean asks lowly.

Bella doesn't miss how his fingers tighten minutely and his jaw ticks.

"I didn't know," Sam defends himself.

There's an uncomfortable silence. Bella takes that time to slip away cautiously. She slides off her heels and makes a break for it. Just in time too, as the hushed arguing of the Winchester brothers begins. She stands so her toes are curled under her feet and begins to walk around the little house, scanning everything she can see for any clues for anything. The way she walks looks odd to someone who's never seen it before. Her mamma called it her 'faerie walk' (due to young Bella's obsession with fairies) and Bella'd been doing it for as long as she could remember. She probably walked like this all the time for a good five years of her life. Doctors at first were worried, doing tests on her feet, legs, and eventually brain because walking the way she did can be a sign of autism. But they hadn't found anything significantly wrong and Bella eventually stopped walking like that full time. Now she does it as a distraction, likening herself to a ballerina on pointe shoes. But probably less graceful, if she's being honest.

She stops at a desk with a computer. There are pages of text sitting out and intrigued, Bella looks at one of them. It's a book about two hunters named Sam and Dean. Suddenly, her brain makes the connection. Carver Edlund! That's who Chuck is! Oh Christ, she's going to give Dean so much shit for this. The _Supernatural_ books had been discovered by Miranda during one coven excursion to Ireland. The weather had been shit, so the girls were spending their time bored out of their minds in motel rooms. A quick internet search had these books coming up and each girl had taken turns reading passages aloud and laughing. The books were shit, in all honesty. The writing was choppy in some places and it was clear Carver Edlund/Chuck didn't have a very good editor. But Bella couldn't even write a three line poem. So she respected Chuck all the same. Writing is hard. (Although maybe not _**that**_ hard when you just dream up your plot lines and characters.)

"Bells?"

Bella glances up from the manuscript and grins like a Cheshire cat at Dean.

"You didn't tell me Chuck was Carver Edlund."

His face drops into an annoyed scowl. "How'd you even know about these books?"

"My friends and I were in Ireland for Beltane a couple years back and the weather was shit, so we spent about three days inside our motel room reading the _Supernatural_ books," Bella explains with a laugh. "It was pretty much the best day of my life."

Dean groans, dropping his head into his hands.

"Son of a bitch."

"In _Route 666,_ I think Chuck gave your naked body more credit than it deserves."

He groans louder. "You read _**that**_ one? I was full frontal in that!"

"I know. Chuck can't write sex scenes very well. He's like a sixteen year old boy. I think he kept using the word 'mounds' for the girl's breasts or something."

Dean shakes his head. "Are you done? I'd rather not think about it too much."

"I got this weird little crush when I read it," continues Bella. "My heart was all-a-flutter and I got a little sweaty."

"Over me?" he says, suddenly interested again. "Wow, Bells. Naughty little thing you are. Did you think of my dick? My lips? My fingers playing with your perky nipples? My tongue finding it's way to-"

"Oh Jesus. Relax on the ego." she says flatly. "No, it wasn't you that got me all worked up. It was Cassie. She sounded like my dream girl."

Dean scowls again. "Shut up, Rossi."

"Oh yeah? You jealous or something, Winchester?"

"Not gonna answer that."

Bella grins. Dean can be so transparent sometimes.

"She sounded pretty. And such a badass."

"Stop it," Dean grumbles.

"You _**are** _ jealous!" she teases with bright eyes, standing right in front of Dean. She looks up at him with a gentle smile. "Do you miss her?"

"Not anymore," Dean says shyly, wrapping his fingers around hers. "I got a new chick to bug."

"Lucky girl."

Dean chuckles, bumping his nose against hers.

"You sure are," says Dean, just before he kisses her gently.

Bella throws her arms around Dean's neck, standing on the tips of her toes to reach him. Fuck, he's tall and his hands are rough. They scrape over the skin of her lower back when Dean pushes Bella's shirt up the slightest amount.

"Your fingers feel nice," she muses, her lips still on his.

She feels his smile.

"Your skin feels nice," says Dean.

"You're like corn, mio innamorato. It makes me nauseous," Bella laughs.

"I'm _**what**_? Like corn?" he replies, looking at her with fond amusement.

"Yeah, like corn. You're being a cliche. Too affectionate. Like corn."

He looks confused for a moment.

"Oh!" says Dean, understanding dawning on him. "You mean corny. I'm bein' corny, right?"

Bella wrinkles her nose. "Um, maybe? Is that the American colloquialism?"

"So, you know the word 'colloquialism', but not the word 'corny'?"

"English is a weird language, Winchester."

She lets out a high pitched squeal when Dean picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder and, ignoring her protests and fists to the back, carries her over to the couch. He sets her down gently like he's afraid she'll die or something. Dean nudges Bella aside and sits down next to her. She turns to face him, tossing her legs across his lap and leaning her head into his chest. Sighing contently, Dean wraps his arms around Bella and holds her tightly.

"You freaked me the hell out, you know."

His voice is soft, almost childlike, and he's not looking her in the face. It's a tone she's never heard him use before and she realizes that, yeah, he was worried. He still is. A rush of emotion dashes over Bella and she swallows past a tiny lump in her throat. Sweet, sweet Dean. His heart's way too big for his body.

"I'm okay" she catches his chin in her fingers and pulls his gaze down to her, "I'm fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Io prometto," Bella laces her fingers through Dean's again, "I promise."

"Good. That's-uh- good."

Just then, Sam edges in to the room with Chuck behind him. Sam shoots Dean a fearful look, probably due to their previous arguing, Bella decides. Not that she can blame him. Dean can be terrifying when he's mad and with the way they were yelling at each other, Dean sounded ** _really_** fucking mad. Dean plays everything off like Bella knows he always does: by pretending he has no emotions. He gives Sam a grin. Yet his hand on Bella's upper thigh tightens and Sam, noticing this, moves to sit in a different chair.

"Um, hi. Isabella, right?" says a very nervous voice.

Bella lifts her head from Dean's chest. Chuck is right in front of her (almost standing on her toes) and looking as though he's worried for her. She suddenly gets a chill as his energy washes over her. He's powerful. Which is a strange aura, coming from a little guy like him. He looks like it'd take one blast of icy wind to knock him over and (Bella notes with a bit of disgust) is in desperate need of a shower. So why does he look like he knows all of her dirty secrets? Her eyes narrow a little.

"That's me," she says. "Call me Bella. And you're Chuck."

She lets out a huge yawn.

"Jesus, sorry," Bella lays into Dean again. "Ho sonno. Ho molto sonno."

"Uh, what? I don't-uh-speak Spanish."

Bella lets out a noiseless snort. What a genius, eh?

"You tired still, Bells?" says Dean softly, ignoring Chuck.

She nods. "So sleepy."

"We'll find a motel, okay?" he says, running a gentle hand over her hair. "And then you can get some rest. How's that sound?"

"Molto bene," Bella coos.

Dean chuckles. "Awesome."

"Eccezionale," she says automatically in Italian.

"Gonna assume that means awesome," Dean shifts, standing up from the sofa and pulling Bella up with him.

"I can walk," she says.

But she doesn't even try to wiggle out of his arms. It's also clear that Dean doesn't seem to mind. Oh fuck, he smells so good. It's like this gunpowder-y, leather-y, minty, manly man, entirely Dean smell, and Bella's body reacts instinctively to it, snuggling closer still to him so her nose is pressed against his chest. Then the aura in the room starts changing and Bella turns her head as she tries to register what's new.

"Angeli."

Sleepy Bella always seems to speak in Italian.

"Hmm?" says Dean, kind of nuzzling his face in her hair.

"Oh man!" says Chuck suddenly, rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingers. "I can feel them! They're coming! Ow!"

"Who?" says Sam.

"Angeli," says Bella again, stepping nimbly out of Dean's embrace.

"Right you are," says a strange voice. "Ah, we'd thought we'd find you here, Dean."

Dean winds his arms protectively around Bella's waist and tugs her back into his body. She can feel the low thrum of grade A Dean Winchester rage thrumming deep in his chest.

"What the hell do you want?" he snaps.

"Playtime's over. Time to come with us."

Dean almost jumps him. "You just keep your distance, you asshat."

Blinking blearily, Bella pushes at Dean until he lets her go, albeit reluctantly. She takes a few steps forward, gazing at the angel, unbelieving that they actually exist and that the Winchesters haven't gone crazy and haven't just been making all this shit up. The thing in front of her is a little bald man in a nice suit. He looks a little haughty, as though he isn't thrilled with the prospect of working with humans.

"Bells, come back here," says Dean firmly.

"Che sono tu?" she mumbles. "Un angelo, si?"

"Yes," the angel says, straightening up importantly. "Call me Zachariah."

"Perché sei vecchio?"

"I'm old because the vessel I chose was old. Are you surprised?"

"Si, ho sempre pensato," Bella shakes her head, trying to clear the fuzziness from her brain. She's still a little wiped out and magic drunk. "I thought that angels were young and striking with long, flowing hair. And a warm presence."

"Not me."

"I suppose not. Are you here to help?" she tilts her head, trying to read his energy.

It always takes longer and makes her more tired than normal to figure out a higher being's intentions using her powers. But Bella isn't really liking the pictures she's getting of this so called 'angel.' In fact, he seems, in layman's terms, like a major asshole.

"Actually, no. I came to retrieve Dean. It's his time to go," says the angel.

Bella furrows her eyebrows. "That doesn't seem right. No, you can't take him."

"I must. It is necessary, Isabella. Unless you want to be partially responsible for the murders of seven billion innocent lives."

She lets out a small surprised noise and puts her hands over her mouth. Okay, angels are definitely not what she thought they'd be. Why would he say that to her? Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she tries not to burst out crying. Her feelings are really hurt over that comment and how dare this angel say that? God, she used to fucking pray to these assholes every night! Who the fuck does this guy think he is anyway? Dean comes up behind her and takes her into his arms protectively. He bares his teeth.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Just telling that girl over there the cold hard truth. Now, are you going to come willingly or will I have to force you?"

"Cram it with walnuts, you dick."

"Dean, Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description," says Zachariah. "We need to strike now, before he finds his vessel. Unfortunately, us up in Heaven can't stop him by our lonesome. We need you. And you need us. Think of it as..." he grins eerily, "Synergy."

"No," Bella says quietly, her voice muffled by Dean's shirt. "This isn't right."

"Shhh, I gotcha, Bells," says Dean in her ear. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you."

"You're not nice like they taught me in church," says Bella childishly. "You're cruel and your soul is dark."

The angel laughs. "Well, the Good Book tends to embellish things."

"They completely left out the 'arrogant, self-centered, dick-bags' part of the description," she says angrily. "It's not right for you to be here and you know it. Go!"

Stepping away fro Dean, Bella glares at the creature. Not angel. He doesn't deserve that title. He doesn't even deserve to be called a 'he'. He's more like an it, a nothing. Bella's fingers twitch as the feeling of water lapping at her toes overwhelms her. Her emotions already high, it doesn't take long for the sensation of the sea to travel up her feet, over her ankles, and to her shins, tickling the backs of her knees. The lights in Chuck's house start to flicker. Zachariah's eyes glow in recognition.

"Oh, you're one of Lucifer's creations! How wonderful. You'll be very useful to us. We've been looking for one of you for a very long time, but, alas, you're cloaked from our eyes. But yet, here you are. Within reach."

"You're the ones who wanted to jump start judgement day. There's no way in hell I'd work for you."

"Either you do, or we kill you. It's really that simple."

"Hey, back off," growls Dean. "You touch her and I'll kill you faster than you can cry for your daddy."

The angel steps forward, apparently tired of the conversation and looking like he's ready to grab Dean. Bella's fingers twitch again and a flame sprouts from the tip of one. She's drowning in seawater now. It's beautiful and dangerous all at once. She can feel as her eyes turn purple with her anger and inwardly she curses herself. She has to keep her emotions in check because last time the water was this high on her body, Bella had destroyed an entire circle of trees. Before she moves to attack him, Zachariah vanishes in a flash of light and Bella sees Sam emerge a few seconds later with blood on his hand. She sighs gratefully.

"Banishing sigil?" says Dean.

Sam hums. "Yeah. Thanks for teaching it to me."

"No problem."

"Great timing, Sam," adds Bella.

Sam runs his hand through his hair.

"Yeah. You okay?"

"Yes. Why?"

Sam glances down. "Because your hand is on fire."

Bella glances down too, but she's impassive. He's right; flames are dancing around her fingers. She laughs at the three men's shocked expressions.

"What the fuck, Bells?" says Dean. "You...you're on fire."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Does it hurt?" Chuck asks.

"Oh no," says Bella, twirling her fingers so the flames spin around in little circles. "My fire can't hurt me."

"That's amazing," Sam says, walking closer to her. "Is that a natural born thing?"

Bella nods, holding up her hand for Sam to examine. She flickers her fingers at him and the flames travel farther up her hand, engulfing the entire thing. Sam jumps back.

"God, fuck!"

"Sorry," says Bella, fighting back a grin.

"No, it's fine," Sam reaches out a hesitant hand. "It's cool."

Bella shakes her hand again so that only the tip of her pointer finger is lit. Sam reaches out, eyes impossibly wide, and runs his own finger through the flame. A smile breaks out across his tired face.

"This is incredible. Wow!"

She laughs. "Amazing, right?"

"Very amazing," Sam says, just as part of the flame jumps onto his hand, "Ah, ah, hold on!"

Bella watches as his face wrinkles in confusion.

"It's not burning me. At all," he looks down at her, "Are you doing that?"

"Yes. It's only painful when I want it to be."

"Wow," Sam says again, watching the flame travel up his arm. "It's so... Comforting. Dean, come here and check this out."

Bella looks to the other Winchester and frowns. He has this indescribable look on his face. If Bella is to really work it out, it's this look that reads of fear, anger, surprise, and hurt. As though he's hurt that Bella kept this from him? She's feeling very confused.

"C'mon, Sam," he says gruffly. "We need to get outta here."

Realizing that there's no room for arguments, Sam agrees.

"How do I...er, put it out, I guess I mean?"

Bella shows him, shaking her fingers and the flames disappear into the air. Sam follows her lead and watches as a few stray bits of fire swirl up to the ceiling and disappear almost immediately. Bella doesn't miss the way Dean's jaw ticks when Sam grins down at her again. Why is Dean being this way?

"That's amazing," Sam repeats.

Bella smiles happily. "I'm glad you think so, Sam."

Dean makes a scathing noise in the back of his throat.

"Let's go, you fuckin' lovebirds."

Bella rolls her eyes. She's just as annoyed. It doesn't take much for Dean fucking Winchester to push all her fucking buttons. It's like he knows exactly which ones to push too. He's infuriating.

"Whatever," Bella says. "Come on, Sam."

She takes Sam's arm in hers and Bella thinks that it's kind of cute the way it is walking with him. She still isn't wearing her four inch heels and he has a good foot on her. Maybe even more. Sam looks a little surprised, but grins down at her gratefully, as though he needs someone to be touchy feely with him right now. Which he probably does, after what happened.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," says Bella as she and Sam walk out of Chuck's house.

Dean is glowering behind them.

"No?" says Sam.

"Ruby played you."

"I should have seen it coming, Bella."

She pats his bicep. "Demons are always one step ahead of the humans they're conning."

He sighs. "I killed Lilith and I set Lucifer free. **_I_** did that."

"Stop, Sam. Don't do this to yourself. How in good Christ were you supposed to know? Read her mind? Hmm? PS, if you can't think of an answer, that's because there isn't one, dude."

Sam is silent, seeming to absorb her words. His tense shoulders relax the tiniest amount and Bella takes that as a good sign. Slipping her heels on again, Bella wanders back over to the Impala. It's a very beautiful car, she thinks in the back of her mind. Not as beautiful as hers, but beautiful nevertheless. It's clear that Dean takes good care of it. Speaking of the older Winchester, he still hasn't looked at Bella and she gets annoyed all over again. Is he scared of Bella now that he can see what she can do? Which doesn't make that much sense, seeing as how he had seen her call up a fucking Vodou spirit not three days ago. Surely a little friendly fire can't be that intimidating. So what's his goddamn deal? God, he pisses her off. Not five minutes ago he was acting like a worried husband and now he can't even bother to look at her? Fucker.

"Thanks for coming guys," says Chuck. "Sorry about your friend."

"He's an angel," Sam pipes up. "He'll be fine."

"I sure hope so. T-that explosion. Wow. I just-" Chuck trails off as he catches Dean's glare, "-I'm done. We're good. Mhmm. Not -uh- not talking anymore- about- about that."

"Nice to meet you, Chuck," Bella says, giving him a wave.

"Yeah, you too," he says, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Stay safe with the -uh- fire thing, okay?"

Bella laughs and gives him a one finger salute.

"I always am."

* * *

 **1\. Rochester banter is just so fun to write. 2. Thanks again for reading! 3. I'm like 97% sure _quella bocchinara di tua madre_ means something along the lines of your mother being a person who gives a lot of head (bocchinara doesn't translate properly). So ouch, Bella.  
**


	21. Cat Scratch Fever

**I'm sorry this took so damn long. This chapter kicked my ass and I know it isn't my best. Ugh. Writer's block is confusing.**

* * *

 _"They know just where to go when they need their lovin', man."_

The coffee in his hand is the worst coffee Dean's probably ever drank in his life. He'd gotten it from a shitty little gas station about fifty paces from the motel and it tastes like it's been sitting in the machine since February. But it's strong and that's all that matters because he's running on five hours of sleep. For the last three days. Dean holds his amazingly awesome looking chocolate glazed doughnut in his mouth and rifles through his pockets until he finds the motel room key. As he's unlocking the door, he hears quiet little laughs coming from inside the room and the sound has his hand clenching around his coffee.

"No!" he hears Bella say. "Do it right!"

"How am I saying it wrong?" Dean hears his brother ask.

"It's **_mi chiamo_** Sam. Mee-key-ahh-moe. Now try it again."

"Mi chiamo Sam. E tu?"

"Mi chiamo Bella," Dean hears her say. "Piacere."

"Piacere."

Someone starts to clap and Dean makes an jealous noise. C'mon, Sam. What are you doing with Bella? She's not his. Of course, she isn't necessarily _ **De **an'** s** _either, but he sometimes feels like she is. He immediately scolds himself. Like c'mon, Winchester. It's not like Bella is your fucking girlfriend. So why do you care if she's talking to your brother instead of kissing you so deeply and thoroughly that you feel it buzzing in your veins for the rest of the day? (Wait, what? Are we really back to this?)

"How was that?" asks Sam.

"Mmm, better," Bella says in that voice that's just dancing on the edge of seductive. "Much better."

"Would you say I was _**molto bene**?_ "

"All right, now you're just showing off."

"Am not."

She snorts. "Solo un po."

"Just a little bit?" Sam says.

"Just a little bit," there's a bit of shuffling from Bella's end, "Okay Sam. From the top."

"Ciao," Sam says.

"Ciao. Come ti chiami?"

"Mi chiamo Sam. E tu?"

"Mi chiamo Bella. Piacere."

"Piacere. Di dove sei?"

"Sono di Italia. E tu?"

"Sono di Kansas. Uh, qual è il tuo colore preferito?"

Dean hears Bella laugh again. He wants to burst in there and stop everything that they're doing. Is she falling for Sam? Is Sam wanting her? Jesus, he hates this. This feeling of weird insecurity over Sam stealing Bella away from him is fucking him the hell up. Dean never gets insecure about chicks, damn it!

"Bene! Il mio colore preferito è viola. E tu?"

"Rosso."

"Ah," Bella says. "Il rosso è un colore bello."

" _ **Sei**_ bella," Sam says.

Now that he understands. Dean lets out an irritated growl and unlocks the door, pushing it open just in time to watch as Bella pushes Sam's shoulder and then they both dissolve into identical fits of laughter.

"I got breakfast," he says grouchily. "If you guys are done makin' out."

"Lui è geloso," croons Sam under his breath.

Bella grins at him, picking up her own chocolate doughnut. She sips at her coffee and makes a face at it before looking at Dean.

"I was just teaching your brother some of the basics. We weren't kissing. He doesn't know enough Italian to properly woo me yet."

"I can woo you in French," says Sam stubbornly.

"It's not the same though, is it?" muses Bella, nibbling the corner of her doughnut.

Dean watches with his own doughnut halfway to his mouth as Sam and Bella share this look between them that Dean can't decipher. He can't decide if it's just a friendly look or something else and it annoys the hell out of him.

"I'm going to go shower," Sam says eventually.

"Have fun, Sam!" Bella says and Dean wants to punch his baby brother on the nose.

The room is silent as Sam shuts the bathroom door. Dean is still grumpy at the both of them. Bella is uninterested in his plight as she jumps up onto the counter with a cup of coffee in her hand and the half eaten doughnut in the other. Dean feels strangely hurt. She can't have a thing for Sam. Not after Dean. Right? I mean, no one's ever picked Sam over Dean. And he's not being cocky, it's just how it's always been. But then, Sam is smart. And Bella is smart. Sam is understanding. And Bella is too- in her own way. They're both more similar than Bella and Dean are. Bella and Sam makes more sense. So maybe, naturally, they'd just... No. Fuck no, he's not letting it happen. Dean'd rather do another stint in Hell than see his brother get his grubby moose paws all over Bella. He sets his mouth in a hard line and strides over to her, standing in between her thighs.

"Yes?" she asks, her mouth full of food.

Dean decides to get right to the point.

"Do you want him?"

"Who?" says Bella, swallowing. "Sam?"

"Who else?"

"Why does it matter to you? It's not like we're dating or anything."

"No, but-"

"But what? You get to hook up and I can't? We're just having sex Dean, not getting hitched. And we weren't even flirting. He wants to learn Italian."

"He called you 'beautiful'," Dean snaps.

"Then he knows a pretty girl when he sees one!" she says sharply.

"How many people have you hooked up with since Christmas, Bella?"

She gives him a hard look. "I don't think that's any of your business. Is it, Winchester? And on top of that, let me ask you the same thing. How many people have _**you**_ hooked up with since Christmas?"

Dean shifts on his feet. "You want the truth?"

"I'm going to guess somewhere in the mid-twenties. Is that in the ballpark?"

He shrugs. "Sixteen-ish."

She makes this disgusted noise in the back of her throat and Dean scowls.

"So? What about you then? Gotta be in the high thirties, at least."

"Nine," Bella says darkly. "God, you're such an ass. What's with the double standard, huh?"

"Why does your next conquest have to be my brother, Bella?"

"He's not my next conquest, for fuck's sake. Why do you even care?"

"Because," Dean says lowly. "I can be so much better than him. And you know it too, don't ya?"

He runs a finger down her cheek and watches as Bella's fingers tighten around her coffee. Dean grins knowingly. Yeah, she can't resist him.

"Don't I make you feel good, baby?" he purrs. "Call you beautiful when I fuck you? Tell you how pretty you are, how good you feel? Don't I always take care of my girl?"

"I'm not 'your girl', Winchester," Bella says firmly.

He steps closer still, running his hand up her bare thigh and, grinning at the way her breath hitches the slightest amount, pushes up the Metallica t-shirt he had let her borrow last night after they'd crashed in a motel room. Bella pushes her hair behind her ears. It's up on top of her head in one of those buns that take girls two seconds to do, strands of colored curls escaping and framing her face. Her green eyes are bare of their usual black and she's not wearing any lipstick. And motherfucker, she's just so damn pretty. It drives Dean absolutely nuts.

"You're not?" Dean feigns hurt. "Cuz I thought you were. I mean, I _**am**_ the only guy who knows what makes you tick, right?"

"Just because you know how to get me off doesn't mean I'm your 'property' or whatever. I'm a person, Dean. Not something to win like a prize at a carnival."

"I know that," he replies, stung.

"You can't act like a jealous boyfriend if all we are doing is fucking," says Bella with a tone of finality. "And that's it."

Ouch. Is that all he is to her? A hookup? A friend with benefits? Even after he's practically carved out his goddamn soul and offered it to her on a goddamn plate? Oh, that actually hurts.

"Well, tell me about yourself then," Dean challenges.

"You don't care. Not really. You're just trying to get in between my legs. Trying to prove a point."

Okay, yeah, he is definitely trying to do that right now. Dean won't deny it. But he likes Bella. A lot. A whole fucking lot and he's offended that she thinks so little of him. He steps back from her and sets his hands down at his sides. He blinks at her, waiting for something. Whatever it is, Dean isn't sure, but whatever it is, it'll come around eventually. _She'll_ come around eventually. She always does. She's just as drawn to Dean as Dean is to her. It's the natural order of the universe. Bella sips her coffee and then sets the cup down on the counter. She sighs, looking away from Dean's stern face. His jaw clenches and Bella takes the hair tie around her wrist and lifts it up, snapping it against her skin. She does it again and again. Her eyebrows are furrowed. Her wrist is slowly turning pink and her hand clenches. She moves it towards her bare leg and Dean, somehow knowing what she is about to do, grabs her hand before she can dig her nails into her thigh. Bella finally looks up at him. She sighs again.

"I hurt my first love, Dean. Tried to kill her."

He snorts. "Stop fuckin' with me."

Bella shakes her head, tears welling up in those beautiful eyes.

"Cara and her dad were hunters and just wanted me to get to my coven. I found her notes and confronted her. She attacked me and I lit the knife in her hand on fire. But I was upset and young and I just- lost control. The doctors had to use skin grafts to make her look okay again."

"You actually burned her?" says Dean quietly.

"Yes."

"How?"

"You saw it. If I lose control, so do the flames."

"Show me," Dean says. "Like you showed Sam."

Bella shakes her head. "No."

Dean walks between her thighs again. He stares her straight in the eyes to show that, yes, he's so fucking serious. Seeing Sam in awe of Bella and her fire awoke something in Dean. He is so stupidly, insanely jealous that Sam was the first to feel the flames from Bella's fingers climb up his hand. It was such an oddly intimate thing that she had shared with his younger brother before she had shared it with him. He briefly has to wonder if it's because his reputation regarding his treatment of witches precedes him.

"Show me," Dean repeats.

"You'll want to kill me when you see it."

He pinches his eyes closed and rubs his hand over his face in frustration. Just when he thought they had been over and done with this, she brings it back up. The first time they met, he didn't mean all the things he said about wanting her dead. If anything, it was a weird form of foreplay. If he thinks hard enough about it, Dean wanted her the very second he laid on eyes on her, monster or not. She is just so effortlessly bad-ass and whip smart without even really trying. He thinks she has him held tight by the balls with how sappy his brain gets when he's around her.

"Is that seriously your only impression of me?" he says.

"Anything that's different scares you. You like **_normal._** Anything beyond those limits freak you out. Can't say I blame you though," Bella shrugs. "I hear I'm dangerous."

Dean cups her face in his palms.

"Show me. You won't hurt me, will you?"

"I could never."

"Then show me."

She stares at him, tilting her head as though trying to x-ray his brain. Dean straightens up, letting her read his energy or whatever the hell it is that she is doing with such fierce concentration. Eventually, Bella agrees.

"All right."

Her eyes close and she exhales deeply. After about fifteen seconds, Bella flickers her fingers on her left hand and all five of the tips burst into flames. She opens her eyes again and Dean notices that they're now a deep purple.

"Your eyes changed colors," he says.

She nods. "Happens sometimes."

He grabs her hand and holds it in his own, never breaking eye contact. She tries to pull her fiery fingers away from him, but Dean is stubborn and shakes his head.

"Do more. Like you did with Sam."

More than she did with Sam. So much more.

"Dean-"

"Please?"

Bella sighs. "Fine. But so help you, if you even reach for a gun..."

She squeezes her fingers around Dean's and the flames travel up the back of her hand, licking at her palm, and carefully settling around Dean's hand. He winches a little, waiting for it to hurt. But no pain comes. It soaks into his skin and makes him feel warm all the way down to his toes. It's like he had just drank a shot of the most expensive whiskey in the world. It's the warmth and comfort he gets before the drink makes him drunk. It's just awesome and Dean is feeling nothing short of awe.

"Are you okay? Should I stop?" Bella says, unsure.

He shakes his head and taking his other hand, grabs her chin and pulls her up for a kiss. As soon as their lips meet, the warm feeling inside Dean sparks something to life and he groans, wanting Bella closer. Her free hand goes around Dean's neck and she pulls herself up so she's hovering with her ass partway off the counter. Sliding his right hand from her jaw down to the edge of her **_(his)_ ** (take that, Sam!) shirt, Dean places his fingers on one of her thighs and moves it upwards, under her tee, and settles at the bottom of her boob. He holds it in his palm, running his thumbnail along the bumps and curves and Bella makes that little purring noise. He wants to ask her if he's the only one who has ever brought that sound from her.

"Sei bella," Dean mutters into her mouth.

He feels her smile. "Grazie. Sei fantastico. Sei perfetto. Sei bello."

"All right, all right, you don't have to one up me."

She lets out a happy squeal when Dean plucks her from the counter effortlessly, forgetting for a moment that his hand is on fire. As he lets go of Bella's hand, the fire on his own fizzles out, leaving only a delicious heat behind. No blistering skin, no pain, nothing. And when Bella tugs on his hair, the flames don't singe his scalp. Even so, Dean doesn't take much time to think about it before Bella is tugging her _**(his)**_ shirt over her head and he's distracted by her bare torso. He doesn't really understand Bella's penchant for never wanting to wear pants when she goes to sleep, but Dean isn't really complaining. It's so much easier to get at the parts he wants.

In the back of his desire filled haze, Dean hears something that sounds suspiciously like a doorknob. His suspicion is confirmed when Bella yelps in surprise, pushing him away from her and Dean pouts, his hands still trying to trace her frame. Quickly he realizes what's going on and Dean wraps his arms around Bella, shielding her from his brother's roving eyes.

"God Sam!" Bella cries.

"Me? You guys are the ones having sex in the kitchen!"

Dean scowls. "Way to kill a mood, Sammy."

Sam scoffs. "Fuck you. Jerk."

"Bitch."

"What?"

Bella looks confused and embarrassed- her cheeks are stained the prettiest shade of red. Almost the same color as the lipstick she likes so much. Tucking Bella behind him, Dean leans down and picks up **_(his)_** t-shirt. Dean hands it to her and she shrugs it on. He wants to whine as all that soft pretty skin is covered up. Damn it, Sam. Little brothers are cock-blocking sons o' bitches. Dean just fucking wants Sam to leave already and go do that nerdy shit that he does so well.

A knock on the motel room door has each person in the room straightening up to attention. Sam, with his long-ass hair still dripping wet, moves towards the door and places a finger on his lips. Dean reaches for his gun sitting on the table and after it's in his hand, he faces the door and without looking at her, pushes Bella behind him. He barely catches her tiny scoff of annoyance. She moves to stand next to him, but Dean gives her a fierce look and moves in front of her again, taking a fighting stance. He barely catches Bella's muttered "for fuck's sake, Winchester!" before Sam is peering through the peephole and Dean is releasing the safety on his gun.

"It's okay," Sam says from the corner of his mouth. "I'm gonna open the door."

He opens the door and a bouncing blonde woman stands there.

"Can I help you, lady?" says Sam.

She starts breathing quicker, squealing.

Sam looks concerned, giving Dean a confused eyebrow raise. Dean shrugs in reply, just as bewildered.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks the woman.

"SAM? I can't believe it's really you! Oh, you're so much taller than I'd thought you be," her voice drops lower, in an attempt to be alluring, "I like it."

Dean can almost _**hear**_ the grin that Bella doesn't even try to hide and turns to give her an amused eyebrow raise.

"You're so firm!" the strange woman says.

Glancing back at Sam, Dean gets an eye full of his brother being felt up. Okaaaayyy, weird. Who **_is_** this chick?

"Do I-uh-know you?" says Sam uncomfortably.

"No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester and-" she turns her gaze to Dean, who looks at her impassively, "Not who I thought you were," she finishes.

There's definitely a little laugh from Bella. Dean makes an indignant face, because, what the fuck? He thinks he's pretty great.

"Anyway, that isn't why I'm here," says the lady. "I'm Becky. Mr. Edlund-er-Chuck told me where you were. He has a message for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"He had one of his 'premonitions', but he's being watched. Angels, he says. He had a vision and I directly quote, 'the Michael sword is on Earth. The angels lost it' end quote."

"Does he know where it is?" says Dean, rubbing his eyes.

"Mhm," nods Becky. "In a castle. On a hill made of forty-two dogs."

Dean thinks, mulling this over. Uh, yeah. Nope. No fucking clue what that means. Thank you, Chuck, for once again, being so damn helpful. He's so done with all this mysterious crap.

"Forty-two dogs?" Sam repeats. "Are you sure that's what he said, Becky? It makes no sense."

"I told you it was a direct quote. I memorized it. All for you, Sam!"

"Oh, um, thank you?"

"You're welcome," Becky says dreamily, her hand still on Sam's right pectoral.

"Can you quit touching me, please?"

She sighs happily. "No."

"Okay. Great," says Sam.

There's an awkward thirty seconds as this strange woman continues to feel up his brother. Dean almost feels bad for Sam. Almost. But then, he was pretty sure Sam was about to feel Bella up an hour ago. So any pity Dean has shoots right out the window and he kind of grins. Fuck, he wishes he had a camera or something right now. Send it in to one of those home video shows. Yeah, he'd make bank. Although it might not be worth the years of wrath and annoyance that Sam would surely strike down on his brother if Dean did such a thing. Ever so slowly, Sam peels himself away from Becky with a grimace.

"Thanks for stopping by," he says, shutting the door in her face.

"I'LL SEE YOU SOON, SAM! AND I'LL BRING YOU MARZIPAN!"

Sam makes a face just as Dean hears Bella make a noise of disgust.

"God, I hate marzipan. The texture is like clay. Ugh."

Sam sighs deeply. "I think I... need a six pack. You guys mind?"

Dean shakes his head eagerly. No, we definitely don't mind, Sam. Get your ass out that door!

"Go ahead, Sam," says Bella with a wide grin. "After that, you might even need something stronger than beer."

"A damn Everclear," Sam mutters and Bella laughs again.

Without another word, he has the Impala's keys in his hand and leaves the room. There's a loud silence as soon as the door closes behind him. Before Dean can even think to turn to look at Bella, he feels a small body press up against his back. He groans when a pair of sinfully sweet hands glide effortlessly under his shirt. Bella's fingers are a little cold. Dean loves it. She presses kisses to his clothed back as her hands blindly explore his torso.

"Dean," she coos sensually. "Have you been hiding that boner from me all this time? Now, how do you think it was for poor Sam to see that? Probably scarred him for life, hmm?"

He spins around, grabbing her behind the neck and pulling her against him. Bella smiles wickedly up at him as Dean begins to speak, punctuating every word with a little smack to her ass.

"I don't want to talk about my fuckin' brother right now," Dean growls.

She gives a little laugh and runs her nails over his chest.

"Oh, maschietto. Jealousy is a good look on you. I like you all...hmm, riled up like this."

"You'd never fuck Sam," Dean says in Bella's ear. "Not after me. I know you."

He presses a hard kiss to her lips, licking his way into her mouth. Breaking away from her, Dean gives her a devilish grin.

"I know what makes you _**purr**_."

Bella lets out a little surprised noise when Dean's hands reach down under her **_(his)_** shirt and gets two big handfuls of her bare ass.

"Got an ass on you like a peach or somethin'," he muses.

She looks confused. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Round," Dean explains, his voice a little muffled as he trails kisses along her neck. "Firm. Just wanna sink your teeth into it."

Bella's eyes narrow.

"Is that supposed to be sexy or something? You want to eat a chunk of my butt?"

"Bells," Dean says patiently. "Women fall at my feet whenever I use that line."

"I have a hard time believing that because that is probably the creepiest thing I've ever heard. And remember, I've read the natural born satanic bible."

"So what I'm hearin' is that it's not workin' for you?"

"No. In fact, I'm terrified."

Bella squeals when Dean picks her up and throws her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" she yelps, smacking his lower back.

"Nah. I like you like this," he says, giving her ass another little slap.

"I'm not a sack of potatoes!"

"Would you quit whinin'?"

He sets her down on the motel kitchen counter and glides his hands up her thighs, playing with the hem of her **_(his)_** shirt. She's scowling at him and Dean grins, bringing her hand up to his mouth. He kisses each finger one by one, then gives her other hand the same treatment. Her nails are a dark green today and Dean decides he likes it. A refreshing change from her usual black.

"Being all cute isn't going to change what you said," Bella says, nudging his jaw with her finger.

But she's now smiling up at him as she pulls him closer with her feet around his waist. Dean grins in return, curling his fingers around one of Bella's thighs and tugging her against him. He runs his nose down her cheek and waits until she turns her head just right before he kisses her. Dean nips on her bottom lip and waits for Bella to open her mouth. When she does, he gets a hint of residual chocolate and coffee flavors and groans a little, sucking the taste off her tongue. She makes her purring sound and wraps her arms around his neck, scratching her nails on the back of his head. They eventually break apart to take a breath and Bella's smiling up at him like Dean hung the stars that she likes so much. His heart clenches in that all too familiar way and he grins back at her.

"Has anybody ever told you that you have really lovely eyes?" asks Bella.

"Heard it once or twice, yeah. Anyone ever tell you that you could be in a centerfold?" Dean replies cheekily.

She laughs. "Heard it once or twice, yeah."

Dean kisses her forehead fondly and doesn't miss when her eyes flutter closes as soon as his lips touch her skin.

"You jealous still?" Bella asks, meeting his gaze again. "Even now that you got me tangled up in you?"

"If I say yes, will you kiss me again?"

"I'll kiss you regardless," she answers, pressing herself closer.

Dean leans in, his nose bumping hers.

"Go on," he urges. "I dare you."

"And what do I get if I do this oh so wild dare, huh?" says Bella, scratching her nails gently through Dean's hair.

"Uh, my utmost appreciation?" Dean tries.

She makes a face. "That's it?"

"Shut up," he says, kissing her again.

"Mm, you shut up," hums Bella against his mouth. "And take off your shirt."

"You first," Dean suggests, diving in to attack Bella's neck with small kisses.

She whines when his mouth passes over that one spot that drives her crazy. He grins, all devil-may-care, and turns all of his attention on that notch where her neck meets her collarbones. Starting gently, Dean just kisses it for a few seconds. Then he licks it. And when he gently sucks Bella's skin into his mouth and nips at it, she gasps and her head falls back against the wall with an unforgiving thump.

"Ow! Fuck me!" she yelps.

"Soon, baby. I gotcha, Bells."

"Oh, shut up! Shit, that fucking hurts! Cazzo! Figlio di puttana! Ugh!"

Dean's laughing at her.

"Lookit!" he croons. "Your head made an indent in the drywall!"

Bella looks behind her and runs her fingers over the dent. She swears again in Italian and looks back at Dean.

"I ain't payin' for that," he informs her, kissing her again.

"What? It wasn't my fault!" says Bella, scandalized.

"It was your head, sweetheart."

"Wow, okay. You can actually go away."

"Aw, c'mon. It was a joke!"

"Yes, because I cannot breathe for laughing," she whines. "My head hurts. Have some sympathy."

"Would an orgasm make it feel better?" asks Dean, his hand already snaking under her **_(his)_** t-shirt.

Bella's lips twitch.

"No."

"How about two?" he continues, his fingers finding their way up her thigh.

Dean gets half of a full blown Bella smile for that offer. But he wants the whole nine yards. The whole Bella-smiling-and-laughing-so-hard-that-her-face-might-split-in-half thing.

"Three?" he says.

And there. He's got her. Bella's smile is radiant and she nods and Dean forgets that the Devil now walks the Earth as he runs his fingers over Bella and she lets out a purr, mashing their lips together and Dean groans because she's so frickin' gorgeous when he has her like this and he wants to get her to scream but he isn't sure how much the other motel guests would appreciate that because Bella is so damn **_loud_** when she comes. But then Dean finds that he doesn't care and is moving his fingers inside her faster and kissing Bella harder and she's keening against him, needing more, more, more, and Dean's whispering filth and praises into her skin and she moans out from his words and his voice and she's almost there and Dean is waiting, waiting, waiting, for it because he gets off from this too and he's rutting against the counter, his sweatpants not giving him nearly enough friction and Bella's cries are louder and she's growing hotter, Dean can almost see her bursting into flames and...

"Dean? Dean?! DEAN!"

Their bubble explodes at the sound of a giant moose hoof banging on the door, leaving behind a very grumpy Dean and a whimpering Bella. She squirms and lets out a breathless little moan when Dean stops the movement of his fingers.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Bobby's here," Sam says from behind the motel room door.

"'Kay. Give us a minute."

He looks up at Bella, who has angry tears running down her face. Dean feels guilty and he tells her so with a soft kiss to her forehead. Bella leans into him and whines when he takes back his fingers.

"'M sorry, kitten," he mumbles with his lips on her temple. "So fuckin' sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you double time."

"You bet your ass you will," Bella replies, but there's no malice behind her words.

They kiss once more, this one gentler and sweeter. Dean runs his nose down Bella's cheek before stepping back and adjusting himself. Bella notices and as she's throwing her hair up into a ponytail, whispers;

"Think of a sexy Yoda. That'll deflate you in no time."

He grins. "Make you come, I must."

Bella shoves him backwards, laughing as she hops off the counter.

"I got the door, you ass hat."

Dean adjusts himself one more time (luckily Bella's trick had worked and is still steadily working, thank Christ) before turning around to greet Bobby and Sam.

"Hey Bobby," he says.

"Hey. Brought some lore books for you boys. Thought they'd be helpful," says Bobby, setting a pile of books on the table.

Brushing donut crumbs aside, he picks up the first book and flips it open to a page of an angel. At least, Dean thinks he's an angel. He's got robes and a halo, but looks like he'd rather be on the cover of _Playgirl_ than preaching gospel.

"Who's that?" asks Sam.

"Michael," Bella says. "The archangel."

Bobby looks at her, surprised. His lips twitch, almost as though he was planning on smiling at her.

"Yep," he says instead. "She's right. He commands the Heavenly host. During the last big dust up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword right there. And, if we can find it-"

"We can kick Satan back down into that cesspool where he belongs," says Bella firmly.

Dean's impressed with her. He nudges her and gives her a smile. She returns it with a wink.

"She's right," Bobby says. "Now, I say everyone take a book and get to readin'. Bella-"

"Yes, Bobby?"

"Heard you can translate. See these?"

Dean briefly sees a page of a book covered in strange writing before Bella grabs the book up in her hand.

"Yes. This is Prisca," she says. "Spoken before the founding of Rome."

"Can you translate?"

"I sure can, Bobby."

Her voice sounds strange and Dean wants to ask her what's wrong.

"Good. Get to it then," says Bobby gruffly, staring hard at Bella.

She nods once, eyeing him warily, before settling down on a bed. Dean opens his own book and settles down to read next to her. Sam seems hesitant though, running his fingers over the cover of an old, decrepit book.

"Kid?" Bobby asks. "You all right?"

"No actually. This is my fault. Bobby, I'm sorry," Sam says.

Dean grunts, looking up from his book. "Sam…"

"Lilith didn't break the final seal," Sam continues. "Lilith was the final seal."

"Sam, stop it," Bella says gently.

Dean notices that her gaze isn't on Sam though. It's on Bobby. She tilts her head as she stares and stares and stares. Dean's getting a little nervous. Is she having a seizure?

"I killed her and I set Lucifer free," Sam finishes.

"You what?" Bobby says quietly.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on," Sam admits.

Dean can't bother to look anymore. He stares down at the text sitting on his lap and Bella, noting the way his shoulders tensed, entwined her fingers with his. They both wait in silence for what's about to happen next.

"You're damn right you didn't listen! You were reckless and selfish and arrogant!" Bobby yells.

"I'm sorry," Sam says meekly, folding into himself.

"Oh yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy! If, by some miracle we pull this off, I want you to lose my number! You understand me?"

Sam nods as if he expected something like this. Dean decides to say nothing as he looks at his feet. Bella on the other hand, stands up from the bed and glares darkly at Bobby. Dean can almost feel the power splashing over Bella as her fingers twitch. The crappy lights in the motel room begin to flicker and everyone except Bella startles in surprise.

"Bella," Dean says warningly.

"No!" she snaps. "Are you all serious right now? He _**said** _ he was sorry! How was he supposed to know that Ruby was evil? For Pete's sake, they had sex! I mean, she was good and convincing and you give him shit for falling for it? Are you kidding me? Whatever happened to the stupid 'family is everything' mantra that you people have tattooed on your asses? Does that only apply in certain situations? It only applies when it's convenient to you asshats? Huh? You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Bobby stares at her, his eyes boiling. Dean grabs her by the wrist to tell her to calm down, but then she lets out a little yelp as though his touch burned her. Dean looks at her, his mouth opening to ask her what the hell that was about.

"Sam," she says abruptly, green eyes still on Bobby's blue ones. "Let's get out of here. Take me to that cool library you were raving about, yeah?"

"Uh, sure," Sam says, gathering things up. "Let's go."

"Now!" Bella snaps.

What is going on? Why is Bella suddenly being a bitch? Dean opens his mouth to ask her what's up, but she and Sam are out the door before he can even get the first syllable out. He grunts and turns back to his book. He feels jealous again and he hates it.

* * *

 **SotD is "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent. Whooo!**

 **Thanks for reading**


	22. With A Little Help From My Friends

_"Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song and I'll try not to sing out of key."_

"You know," Bella says to Sam, "We don't have to go look at lore books."

"We don't?"

Sam's face is pinched, stressed. Bella's heart aches for him.

"No!" she says firmly. "Fuck it. Come on. Let's go get food or something."

Pulling out a fake credit card from his pocket and wiggling it in front of her enticingly, Sam agrees. Bella laughs happily and grabs his hand, tugging him down the small town street. Sam's legs are long and Bella's wearing heels. It's a struggle to keep up with him.

"Samster, slow down! Christ!"

Sam chuckles and slows just enough that Bella can catch up to his long legged stride. She gestures wordlessly to a little cafe and they head in the direction Bella'd pointed. She realizes suddenly that she's ravenous. As if agreeing with her silent thought, her stomach growls loudly. Sam grins down at her, amused. His smile is so much like Dean's. Bella grins in return and ducks under his arm and into the cafe. They place their order with the waitress and Sam pays for their lunch. Bella thanks him and they take a seat at one of the tables outside on the patio. There's a gentle breeze blowing Bella's hair into her eyes. She takes a sip of her lemonade and leans her head back against the uncomfortable metal chair, soaking up the sun.

"We should go to a fair," Bella remarks.

"Now?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, why not? Aren't we near a Six Flags?"

"I have no idea. But it's not like we can pack up and leave, Bella."

"Who cares? I think Dean and Bobby have the research covered, don't you think? Besides, Bobby was kind of a dick to you back there. And his energy felt strange. A little angry."

Sam chews his lip. "How angry?"

"Weirdly angry. Like it didn't fit his personality. But maybe I just don't know him well enough yet. Huh."

She shrugs wordlessly at Sam. It was weird the way Bobby's energy had felt back in the motel. It was an energy that Bella had sensed before, but trying to recall it had her drawing a blank. It was like trying to remember something from a poignant dream she'd had when she was six years old. Something she'd remembered for a good few months after the fact, but doesn't remember it now. Strange. They get their food then and Bella immediately shoves a handful of fries into her mouth. They're perfectly crispy and cooked. She hums in delight, momentarily forgetting her confusing intuitive feeling. Sam, meanwhile, is busy mixing some kind of dressing into a salad. The lettuce looks wilted as hell and Bella makes a face at it. Yes, she likes vegetables. But if she were to crave a salad, she'd make one at home. Salads from restaurants always look so sad. Her phone rings, distracting her, and Bella glances down at the screen.

"Do you mind?" she says to Sam.

He waves his hand. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," Bella says, picking it up and putting it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Hey Bella," says Annie.

"Annie," Bella replies. "What's up?"

"I just called to tell you that Tyler's vet appointment went okay. She took her shots like a champ."

Bella smiles. "Good. Thanks for taking her. How's everyone else doing?"

"Uh, Keith stole a pair of your socks. Tolkien and Nix are good. Luna ate half a bag of cat treats, the little pig. And Keith doesn't like me. He's been hiding in your closet for the last few days. I've even been putting his food right outside the door! He won't leave. I hope he isn't pooping in there because that goes way above my hypothetical pay grade."

"Maybe it's because last time you pet sat for me, he almost jumped out of a car window. Maybe he associates you with certain death."

Annie makes a noise of annoyance and Bella grins into her sandwich.

"It was his own fault. He didn't have to make a break for it. This is why you need more than two cat carriers, Izzy."

"He's not the cat I worry about in the car, Maxie. It's just you he's afraid of. Although maybe if you integrated him into a regular car instead of a taxi, he'd-"

"-Goddesses, I am not buying a car just to make **_your_** cat happy-"

"-Start to trust you more, thanks for interrupting me. You know I'm only half serious, right?"

Annie makes another hacking cough of irritation.

"Whatever. I'm hanging up now."

"Give Tyler some pats for me!" cries Bella.

"I will. See you."

"Bye! I love you!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love you too, you terrible human."

Bella laughs when she hangs up the phone. She's still giggling as she takes a sip of her lemonade and glances up at Sam. He raises an eyebrow.

"My friend Annie," explains Bella. "She's pet sitting for me."

"You have a dog?" asks Sam.

"Yep. And four cats and a bearded dragon. We're a wily bunch."

"Wow. How do you care for 'em all?"

"I mean, I rarely ever go on hunts longer than a day or two, if I take any hunts at all. Long story. Anyway, I'm usually always at home in Toronto. My pets aren't alone for that long, unless a specific coven holiday dictates it. Like last November I was gone for a good month in Greece and could only bring Tyler and one of my cats, Nix. But otherwise I try to be with them as much as I can," Bella hums, "I like to think I take good care of them."

'What's your dog's name?" Sam says.

"Tyler. After Tyler Durden from _Fight Club_. Don't ask why. It was Jace's idea and I liked it, so. There it is. You like dogs, Samster?"

"I love them," he looks wistful, "Dean won't let me get one. He says a dog'd ruin the Impala's leather seats."

"He gets a boner whenever he thinks about that car, doesn't he?"

Sam snorts. "Yeah, he does."

"Fucking weirdo," Bella proclaims, taking a bite of her sandwich.

A strip of bacon slides out from between the two slices of toast and she hoovers it into her mouth. Sam looks a little grossed out and Bella playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

"Real mature."

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up and eat your salad."

"Yes'm."

They sit in silence for a few moments, the only sounds between them being chewing and the crunching of food. Sam wipes his mouth with a napkin and clears his throat. Bella glances up at him with a huge slice of tomato hanging halfway out of her mouth.

"Tell me- please put that in your mouth, Bella- tell me about Italy. I've always wanted to go there."

"If I tell you, will you stop judging my table manners?"

"You eat like an aggressive wolf."

Bella scowls. "I'm starving! And my BLT isn't holding together as well as **_your boring salad_**."

"It isn't boring, it's good," Sam shoots back. "Leave me alone. You're worse than Dean."

"Can we talk about something besides my similarities to your brother please?"

He relents, holding his hands up in defeat. "Fine. Italy?"

"Fine. Italy. We lived in Anacapri, this tiny town off of the coast of Naples. It's part of the island of Capri. Capri is basically a huge resort, meaning it gets most of its money from tourists and celebrities. Our town had a population of only about 6,000. During peak tourist season, it would be packed with rich folks shopping and running around naked on the beach. You know, drinking shitty liquor and polluting the ocean. Everything was more expensive. But after the season was over and it was just us residents again, we would all pitch in and clean the beaches and the water up. We'd get back to our regular lives and just _**be**. _ The residents in Anacapri knew each other and everyone mostly loved each other. You'd go down a street and run into ten people you knew in the span of three minutes."

"That sounds nice."

"It was. Most of the time, anyway. One of my friends had an uncle who drove boats out to the Grotta Azzurra. The Blue Grotto. He taught my friend how to drive his boat and we would skip school and ride out there. We'd swim in the cave itself and eat lunch on the boat. Sometimes, we'd bring scuba gear and go scuba diving. Every minute I had with her, my Nonna Juliette and I would go up to this hill and have fairy tea parties. And during the summer, my friends and I would always find our way to the top of Monte Solaro," says Bella.

"What did your parents do?" Sam asks.

"My dad was a fisherman, sort of your typical Italian coast career. My mum was a nurse. She worked at the fancy resorts and took care of sick tourists. We weren't the richest, but we were happy. It was my life and I wouldn't change much of it for anything."

"'Much of it'?" he repeats.

Bella nods. "Yeah. The Roman Catholic Church isn't a safe place to explore one's sexuality. Plus, small town equals no secrets. Everyone knew everything about everyone else. And then finding out that you're basically the embodiment of everything anti-Catholic? I felt so out of place. I felt like everyone knew I was a natural born witch, though no one but my family did. I'd find myself focusing so hard on not showing any of my power that by the time I joined my coven, it took me a few months to figure things out. Repression is a hell of a thing."

"And how old were you when your magic began to manifest?"

"I was nine," starts Bella with a grin at the memory, "There was this girl who had been giving me shit for six months. I got mad and suddenly the tree that she was standing under burst into flames. She kept calling me the devil and crazy, but of course no one believed that a scrawny nine year old girl with 'big green doe eyes' and a smattering of freckles had the power to set a tree on fire. At the time, I was terrified because I knew that I **_had_** started the fire, but I wasn't sure how or why. My parents eventually caught me lighting paper on fire with my fingertips and told me about my ancestry."

"One more question: why fire?"

"You know, I've never really been sure why. But you can tell a natural born witch by the way they can manipulate certain elements. I can create fire, my friend Lottie can see the future and change it in her favor, and my best friend Annie can influence temperature. It sounds lame, I know, but she's taken out a few bad guys by freezing their blood inside their veins. And the reason that light bulbs burst whenever my magic heats up is because witches' abilities interfere with electricity. That's one thing J.K Rowling got right in her Harry Potter books. But yeah. I think it's my turn to put you under a microscope. Give me seven facts about Sam Winchester. Go!"

"Uh, okay," Sam says. "Um, one, I am terrified of clowns because Dean used to leave me at Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie and those clowns gave me bad nightmares. Two, my favorite color is blue and my middle name is John. Let's see, three, my favorite song has lately been "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked _"_ by Cage the Elephant. Four, my favorite food is oatmeal raisin cookies. Five, I can't cook. Six, my favorite novel is tied between _The Great Gatsby_ and _Lord of the Flies._ Seven, my favorite TV show to this day would have to be _ThunderCats_. Anything I missed?"

"That was very informative," Bella pauses, thinking, "But what's _Thundercats?"_

"You serious?"

"Um- yes?"

"Wow, I can't believe it!" Sam shakes his head. "I used to watch it all the time with Dean when we were kids!"

"I was born in '88, Samster. In Italy, remember."

"Well, that makes sense then. It's this old cartoon show about these aliens that look like cats. There's Lion-O, Tygra, Panthro, Cheetara and Jaga, who is the most powerful one. Oh, and Wily-Kit and Wily-Kat. Then later there's Pumyra, Lynx-O and Bengali."

Bella raises her eyebrows. "Okay... And?"

"And what?"

"Is that it? Or do they do something?"

"They go around and fight this bad guy called Mumm-Ra. He's a demon priest," Sam explains.

"Right," says Bella. "Okay. Great. Mhm. Wonderful. Perfect. Lovely."

"You don't have to pretend to be interested in it for my sake, Bella," Sam says.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Damn."

"Is it my turn to ask you questions now?" Sam says.

Bella shakes her head. "You asked me like nine billion, Samster."

"Why do you **_keep calling_ _me_** that?"

"'Cuz you need a nickname."

"Sam is a nickname!"

"Yes, but everyone calls you 'Sam.' There has to be a name only for me since we're going to be best friends."

"Are we?" Sam looks amused.

"Yes we are. I've already decided for both of us."

"Fine. But that means I get to nickname you too."

"Fine. Go for it."

"Little bit," Sam says immediately.

Bella's face drops into a scowl and she aims a kick at Sam's shin under the table. Her four inch heel digs into his tibia and he startles.

"Ouch! That hurt, little bit."

"No!" cries Bella, kicking him harder, "No, no, no, no, unacceptable, no!"

"Stop kicking me!" he yells.

"Am I hurting you!?" she taunts loudly.

"A little bit-"

"-Don't you fucking dare, Sam Winchester, I swear to Legba-"

"-Little bit!" Sam croons.

"Ugh!" says Bella, flopping her head down onto her arms. "I give up!"

"So I can call you 'little bit' then?"

"I feel like I have no choice in the matter. Fine. I accept my new awful nickname. But remember, I'm mentally punching you in the throat every time you call me that."

"Fair enough."

"Good. I'm glad you understand. Any more questions for me?" Bella asks.

"Give me a few Bella fun facts," says Sam.

Bella drinks the last of her lemonade as she thinks.

"I hate Olive Garden and I want the entire franchise to be destroyed," she finally says. "Uh, when a time machine is finally invented, I will sleep with James Dean and attend Woodstock. And I have this stuffed polar bear named Iceberg that I've slept with since I was four years old. He goes everywhere I go."

"Is he with you now?"

"Of course he is, what a dumb question," Bella says, reaching into her bag.

She emerges with a tattered, grey tinged stuffed polar bear, about the size of a guinea pig. She holds out his paw to Sam, who shakes it with a grin on his face. He's probably mocking her, but Bella is so beyond the point of caring. She'd gotten the stuffed guy at a museum when she was just a little toddler. It had been her birthday present. He'd been with her through it all- funerals, her first coven meeting, everything. This ratty old bear is her constant silent companion, her comfort. Bella has a funny feeling she will never get rid of him, no matter how worn down he gets.

"I think Iceberg needs a good soak," remarks Sam.

"He gets a bath every three months. Leave the guy alone, I've had him for nearly seventeen years."

"He's cute, all right?" Sam admits.

Bella grins triumphantly. "Thank you. I know he is."

Sam glances at his watch then. An alarm has been going off for the past three minutes.

"You ready? We've been gone nearly three hours."

"Do we have to?" Bella whines.

Sam nods.

Bella huffs. "Fine. Let's go fight the stupid Devil or whatever."

With the bill paid, the two get up from their seats. Bella stretches her stiff limbs and takes off her heels before taking Sam's arm again. Though she is now four inches shorter, she can keep up with his long strides better since she is no longer trapped in her mildly attractive feet prisons.

"Why do you hate Olive Garden?" Sam wonders.

"It's North Americans trying to pass off what they think is Italian food as real Italian food. But they don't use the freshest ingredients. Plus, the majority of their menu is pasta. Boxed pasta, mind you. Anyway, I personally ate a lot of fish and a lot of seafood growing up. And their food is so fatty and salty. And-"

"All right, all right, I get it."

"It's like why do Americans and Canadians have to 'Yankee' already perfectly delicious food, you know? Liker their bread sticks are great, but if you want authenticity, Olive Garden is definitely not the place," she shakes her head, "I don't understand North America, to be perfectly honest. Especially the US. It's a mess here. No offense."

"No offense taken. I gotta agree with you on some points," Sam says.

"This kid took me out on a date once and I ordered the vitello alla parmigiana -that's veal parm- and," Bella stops her sentence and snorts in disbelief at the memory, "Yeah, I took one bite and vowed to never return. It was a fucking mess, dude. I teared up a little."

"Ouch."

"I know. It was the most horrifying experience of my life. I ran home and had to make my own spaghetti noodles, I was so torn up. My family had never seen me so distraught."

Sam laughs. "I'll bet. It sounds damaging."

"Oh Hecate, it was. You can bet that the next date I had, **_I_** picked the restaurant."

"Why did you go to an Olive Garden if you lived in Montreal though?" Sam says, looking momentarily confused.

"My family and I were spending a month of our summer in New York City. I met this guy at our motel and he asked me out three days later. He took me there," Bella explains.

"And you held a grudge ever since?"

"Hell yeah! And I do not regret a single minute of my hatred towards that restaurant chain."

Sam laughs again and Bella, too busy staring at her feet, misses the fond look he gives her.

"You know," he starts, "I think Dean really likes you. Like a lot."

Bella smiles softly at her painted toenails. "I really like him too. Like a lot-a lot. But if you tell him I told you that, I'll call you a liar nine times over. Got it?"

"Got it. I won't say a word."

"I trust you."

They've arrived back at the motel. Bella doesn't want to leave their little happy bubble, where they can pretend that they're just two normal friends eating together with all the time in the world to talk. But alas, they aren't. They're planted firmly in the world of monsters and will never ever escape, no matter how hard they try. Bella hates that. Sam starts fishing in his pocket for his keys and she's slipping her shoes back on when she feels it. Death. Decay. Darkness. Evil. Bella gasps loudly and bends over at the waist, suddenly overwhelmingly nauseous. Her head starts to pound.

"Bella?" Sam asks frantically. "What? What is it?"

"Demoni. Tre demoni!" she gasps in Italian. "Fa male, fa male, fa male. Cazzo! Demoni, demoni, Sam! Bobby e Dean sono in pericolo! Bobby è ferito! Apri la porta, Sam! Adesso! ADESSO!"

Sam, though with no prior experience with the Italian language, quickly figures out what has Bella so worried and what she's yelling at him to do. By the word 'cazzo,' he's kicked the door open. As soon as the thing swings open, the duo take in the messy scene. Bobby is lying on the floor, bleeding heavily from an unseen wound. A male demon is circling him, a second knife in his hand. Dean is getting beaten to hell by a second male demon as a female demon watches with a sadistic grin on her face.

"No!" Sam yells, rushing to Bobby.

Bella throws her heels to the ground and rushes at the male who is attacking Dean. He doesn't see her, but the female demon (who seems to be the leader) does. Her smile turns even darker and she waves.

"Well **_hel-lo_** , pretty thing. I thought I smelled my father's blood around here somewhere!" she trills.

"Don't fuckin' touch her," snaps Dean from the floor.

"Quiet!" the male demon hisses, aiming a kick to his ribs.

Dean groans and Bella bares her teeth at the female demon.

"Meg,"she barks.

"How'd you guess?" Meg says brightly.

"I can read energy, remember?"

The two women start circling the room, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Bella's been in this position before and she knows that in order to beat this bitch back to Hell, she's got to let the demon make the first move.

"How could I forget?" says Meg.

Sam, Dean, and the other two demons pause in their individual fights to watch the scene that is unfolding before them. Bella quirks an eyebrow at Meg.

"Demons aren't that smart, are they, mia cara demone?"

Meg laughs, her eyes flashing black. Bella doesn't even recoil.

"My father'll be happy once I bring one of you in, pretty," Meg says. "He's been searching. He needs his witches, you know. Has he been visiting you when you dream?"

Bella's arms burns and she absentmindedly rubs it. There are still fingerprints from two nights ago when she'd dreamt of Satan and he'd held her tightly by the wrist, vowing to never let her go again. Meg notices the motion and smirks again.

"Uh huh, he has. It'll be so good for you once you join him. Eternal life and all that."

"Is that what he's calling it now?" Bella says darkly. "Last I knew, he wants us all dead."

"Eternal life in _**Hell**._ Same difference, really."

"Oh yeah. Exactly the same. Remind me to pack for the trip."

Meg hums. "You'll need lots of sunscreen if you want to avoid the heat, pretty."

"Wow! Did a ** _demon_** just make a **_joke_**? Well, color me surprised as all get out. Who knew you all were so **_sinfully funny_**?"

"Good one," says Meg.

Bella's eyes narrow the slightest amount.

"Uh nuh, pretty thing. No fire yet."

"It's not for you," Bella shoots back.

Meg looks confused. "Wha-"

Bella's finally drowning in her magic. She's floating on the waves of the sea, the saltwater holding her up. It took awhile (strong emotions like the suffocating fear she'd felt when she saw Bobby half dead and Dean being beaten to a bloody pulp tended to retard the power of her magic) but after calming her mind down, Bella is like the Energizer bunny, charged at full capacity. She almost snorts at the thought. Instead, she wiggles her fingers and her hand bursts into flames. The motel lights burst, sprinkling glass onto everyone below. A small bit of glass cuts Bella's cheek as it falls, but she ignores it, flicking her fingers and the demon kicking Dean in the gut ignites. It screams and a window shatters at the high pitched noise. Meg looks murderously at Bella. Bella ignores her and twists her hand again, heating the thing up even hotter. Its human meat-suit begins to deteriorate, the skin falling off in charred clumps as if the body is melting. Bella watches with a daunted expression as the thing collapses into itself. She twists her wrist a final time and the demon sizzles out of the meat-suit, dead. Then the body explodes in a raining storm of blood, guts, and skin. Bella takes a good handful of goop to the face. But she laughs it off, drunk on her magic, and turns to Meg. For the first time ever, a demon looks positively terrified for its life.

"What did you -how- Wait a minute-"

'Didn't expect that, did you, Meg?" Bella taunts, dancing on her toes like some mad leprechaun. "How much did your father tell you about his precious natural borns, huh? You want to see more, _**pretty thing**? _ You want me to light you up too? What does it say, Meg? Does it say yes? You want a turn? You want a turn, don't you?"

Before Bella can say much else, the demon Meg flees its human host in a cloud of black smoke.

"Buzzkill!" Bella screams at the ceiling.

Sam stabs the third and final demon. Bella's still dancing on the tips of her toes with her hands on fire, laughing like a madwoman. She laughs and laughs, twisting her hands and letting parts of the motel room catch on fire before putting them out. The curtains singe. The wallpaper by the bed begins to peel. A table leg shortens. Bella twirls flames through her fingers. She spins around, watching the fire swirl around her arms. She tilts her head back and giggles and screams and giggles. She's drunk on her magic. It's absolutely beautiful- the best high ever. Bella's an addict for this feeling. She follows her fire wherever it'll take her. If it takes her to Tartarus, she'll gladly follow with a spring in her step.

"Bells! Can you hear me?"

She lets out a soft groan and blinks her eyes open. Dean's hovering over her for the second time in the last thirty-six hours. He looks worried until she groans loudly.

"Wha' happened?" Bella sighs, rubbing her eyes.

"You blew up a demon, threatened Meg for a good five minutes, giggled like a crazy person, and then you passed out cold. Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

Dean sits on the floor next to her and Bella crawls over to him, curling herself around his body. He's shirtless and it takes her a minute to realize that he'd folded his flannel into a makeshift pillow for Bella to lay on while she was unconscious.

"Are _ **you**_ okay?" she asks, tracing her cold fingers over his bruised torso.

"Nothin' a few glass 'o whiskey won't fix," says Dean, giving Bella her favorite crooked smile.

"How's Bobby?" Bella asks.

"Sam took 'im to the hospital. He was possessed. Stabbed himself to overcome it. But shit, you've been out for twenty minutes. What the hell did you do?"

"Ugh," Bella holds her head, "I let the magic take control."

"You go too 'drunk on power' that it actually made you pass out?"

"Mhm. Now I have a 'magical' hangover."

Dean chuckles. "There's a sentence I'd never thought I'd ever hear."

"God, it hurrrrrrrrrts. Can you talk a little quieter please?" she whines.

"Okay," Dean drops his voice to a soothing rumble, "I gotta admit, seein' you blow up a demon got me thinkin' some dirty things, kitten."

"Christ, let me breath. Please."

"Okay, whatever you say. Although isn't sex supposed to be the cure-all for every ailment?"

Bella rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, it is."

Dean waits, his eyes slowly lighting up.

"All right. Let's have sex. But I'm expecting you to make up for this morning, Winchester."

Dean growls low in his chest and pounces on Bella. He trails his nose down her cheek and grins playfully. His eyes darken.

"And then some," he says.

* * *

 **I've briefly returned. I'm finishing up 1-2 chapters after this one and then hopefully after my semester is officially over, I'll finish this beast of a story. My inspiration has completely dwindled, partly due to my stress and absolute mental exhaustion (like I don't want to do anything anymore. Yuck.)**

 **Anyway! Our SotD is "With a Little Help From My Friends" It's about drugs, _and_ friendship! All in one. **


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